Redemption
by Charlene Edwards
Summary: A NightwingThe Crow Crossover
1. Chapter 1

Title REDEMPTION  
  
Author Charlene Edwards  
  
Disclaimer Characters and concepts in this story are owned by DC Comics, Warner Brothers, and Pressman Entertainment, et al, and not me (more's the pity). The merger of the two, however is ALL mine. (Believe it or not, I've yet to see the movie The Crow lol but I plan to. I have seen the TV show and some of the comics.)  
  
Rating: R  
  
Story Synopsis: This is a Nightwing/The Crow crossover ELSEWORLD story. THANKS to Noel and Kat for beta'ing and encouraging me with this.  
  
REDEMPTION:  
  
Lightning flashed in the sky as a heavy rain fell on the city streets. Three men in trench coats, their hands in their pockets, walked in the front door of the Gotham building known as the Clocktower. Steadily they walked to the elevator; the tallest of the three, the man wearing the hat, pushed the button. The lighted numbers methodically counted down to one. The doors slid open and the three men walked into the elevator. The doors closed behind them. The lighted numbers started climbing.  
  
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"Hey Babs," Dick began as he sat down beside her on the sofa. Placing his arm around her shoulder, he pulled her close to him. "Why don't we go to Bruce's beach house next weekend? I'm not working, unless Torque escapes -- again."  
  
"Sounds nice," she said as she snuggled against him, placing her head on his chest.  
  
"This is so nice."  
  
"What?" she asked.  
  
"Us. Right now we seem so ... normal."  
  
"Yep, just wondering when the next supervillian's going to pop up." she chuckled softly.  
  
"Well, normal for us," he countered with a wide smile. He leaned over and kissed her on the head. "I love you."  
  
"I know. I love you too."  
  
The sound of a gunshot resounded through the building. Dick sprang up from the sofa as the door came crashing down. As he headed toward the three intruders, the man wearing the hat raised his gun and calmly shot Dick in the chest.  
  
The searing pain sent Dick backwards as the bullet tore into his flesh. He heard Barbara scream. He clutched at the wound. His red blood seeped through his fingers. Looking up he clearly saw the man who had shot him.  
  
"Jo ... Joker ..."  
  
"Thought I'd finish a job I started a few years ago," he said maniacally as he walked over to Barbara. His laughter echoing throughout the room.  
  
"No!" she cried.  
  
"Babs!" Dick started to rise. The pain was excruciating. There had been no body armor to absorb this shot. He needed to be in a hospital, but that could wait.  
  
"Boys, " Joker said to his men, "throw out the trash." Joker turned and shot Dick again. This time in the knee. Barbara screamed again as she watched Dick fall for a second time.  
  
Joker's men grabbed Dick. He tried to struggle, but his injuries were too great. He couldn't fight them off.  
  
"I bet Mr. Joker'd let you watch if you ask nice," the burly henchman, with a leering smile, said to Dick.  
  
"Go to hell," Dick growled out.  
  
"You first," the man replied as he and the other henchman lifted Dick into the air. With a heave, they threw Dick out the window. Barbara's scream echoed in his head.  
  
Broken glass flew into Dick's skin. Each tiny shard was another knife tearing into his body as he and the shower of glass fell toward the street. He had flown this drop before, but he always had his de-cel lines. This time he had nothing. No hope. His thoughts were of his family -- Bruce, Alfred, Tim, and Barbara. Barbara.  
  
Blackness.  
  
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Commissioner Aiken stood atop police headquarters. The Bat Signal in the sky. He never heard the footsteps as the Dark Knight approached, but he felt the change in the air.  
  
"The worst part of this job," Aiken began, "is having to tell someone a loved one is dead. But when you have to tell a friend his child has been murdered. You're lucky, you don't have that part of the job." Aiken turned to face Batman. "I had to do that tonight. I had to tell a friend of mine, and a friend of yours, that his daughter was raped and beaten to death."  
  
"Who?"  
  
Aiken continued seemingly oblivious to Batman's question. "Jim Gordon's already suffered through enough, now to suffer through this ..."  
  
"Jim?" Batman replied as he felt his stomach start to knot. "Barbara?"  
  
"Yes. Barbara and her boyfriend were killed tonight."  
  
"Boyfriend?" Batman asked as he felt the bile rising in his throat.  
  
"Nice kid from what I hear. Dick Grayson, Bruce Wayne's adopted son."  
  
"How?" he managed to ask, desperately trying to hide the shortness of breath he felt. His chest was so tight, his heart racing. Aiken was wrong. He had to be.  
  
"The boy was shot multiple times in Barbara's apartment before they tossed him out the window. We don't know yet if he was alive or dead when they did that. The boy was barely recognizable. We only identified him by his fingerprints. He was a cop, you know. In Bludhaven. But a good cop I hear. You help us find the sonovabitch responsible for this," Aiken said. When he turned around, Batman was gone.  
  
  
  
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Batman sank into the seat of the Batmobile.  
  
"Home," he said having the autopilot steer the car toward the Batcave. He reached up and pulled off his mask. He felt a hot stinging behind his eyes. His chest was so tight. His stomach was nauseous. "God, this can't be happening. It's a mistake. It has to be a mistake. They can't be dead."  
  
The Batmobile roared past the Clock Tower on it's way back to the BatCave. He saw the yellow police tape and he turned away.  
  
"It's a mistake."  
  
  
  
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"Hey Alfie, watch this," Tim said as he started a new series of acrobatic movements.  
  
"Very good Master Timothy."  
  
"Dick's been teaching me that one. I can't wait to show him that I've got it down."  
  
The Batmobile roared into its parking space in the Cave. Bruce stepped out of the car. His face ashen. Alfred and Tim both noticed that Bruce wore no mask.  
  
"Master Bruce?"  
  
"Tim, have you heard from Dick?" Please let him be in Bludhaven, please let him be in Bludhaven he silently prayed.  
  
"Yeah, earlier. He's taking the night off, he and Babs are doing the couple thing."  
  
Bruce felt his head spin as the weight of the truth pressed in on him. His legs went out from under him and he crashed to his knees. The pain he has experienced in his life, physical and emotional, the loss of Jason and his parents, none of that prepared him for this pain. This was unbearable. This was his child. A guttural scream echoed from him, his pain escaping in verbal form.  
  
"Bruce ..." Alfred said as he walked over to the man he raised. "Son?"  
  
"He's dead Alfred. Dick's dead."  
  
"Nooooo," Tim cried. "No, I talked with him earlier. He's at Babs. I'll call Babs."  
  
"They're both dead," Bruce said. Then, looking into Alfred's eyes he asked, "What am I going to do?"  
  
  
  
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Silently he moved into Gotham City's morgue. Walking past row after row of the morgue's vaults until he found the two vaults he sought. His gloved hand slowly pressed against the cold steel door. His hand lingered there a moment before moving to the door's handle.  
  
"Side by side. Just the way they would want it," he thought as he opened the door. He pulled out the body tray, the black body bag still secured. Moving his black gloved hand toward the zipper, his hand faltered. Closing his eyes, he breathed deeply. Why did he feel the need to do this? What was it about him that forced him to face his pain? He pulled the zipper back.  
  
Her face was bruised and swollen. He lightly traced her face with his gloved finger. He felt her auburn hair, it still seemed soft. Then he noticed that lividity had set it on her arms. She had used them to try and protect herself from the blows. She couldn't defend herself. Slowly he removed some skin samples from under her fingernails. It was obvious that Barbara had scratched at least one of her attackers.  
  
It was easier for him to focus on the case than to accept the reality of the situation.  
  
Zipping the bag back, he gently slid the body tray back and closed the door. Silently, he moved to the second vault. His hand slightly trembled as he reached for the handle of the vault. Closing his eyes and breathing deep, he opened the door. Commissioner Aiken's voice echoed in his mind: "The boy was barely recognizable. We only identified him by his fingerprints." He placed his hands on the body bag, and after a moment, he pulled the zipper.  
  
Batman didn't understand his own emotions. Emotions were something he thought he lost when his parents died. It wasn't until that raven haired little boy came into his life that he found he still had his. How could he lose his light? How could he survive without him? Yet, as much as his soul ached, for some strange reason, he seemed at peace here with Dick.  
  
"How can I let you go? How can I go on without you?" he asked before pulling the bag back.  
  
"Batman."  
  
Batman stood motionless as he heard the approaching footsteps.  
  
"Azrael."  
  
"Alfred sent me."  
  
"How did you know to come here?"  
  
"One does not have to be the world's greatest detective to know where you would be. But my friend, you do not need to stay here. You should not continue this."  
  
"I'm ... looking for clues," Batman responded trying to stay detached. "I found ..."  
  
"Now is not the time for that my friend. It is time for you to grieve. Don't continue this. Remember him as he was," Azrael said as he walked over and rezipped the bag. "Let us return home." Azrael closed the vault and turned to leave. He turned back when he realized that the Batman had not moved. Silently he stood vigil by his friend.  
  
Finally, after unknown moments of still silence, Batman's gloved hand reached out touching the vault.  
  
"My boy," he whispered.  
  
  
  
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Falling. Falling. He continued to fall. Shouldn't he have hit the ground by now? Falling, he saw not the Gotham street that should be below him, but a puddle of water, a large puddle. He crashed into the puddle, amazingly unhurt. Soaking wet, he stood.  
  
"Where am I?" Dick asked as he looked around. He seemed to be in a forest. This wasn't right. This couldn't be right. A black crow flew before him. He followed the bird to a swinging bridge over a vast cavern. He felt a connection with the bird, a strange connection. A river flowed by, hundreds of feet below him. Wherever he was, it was beautiful.  
  
"Dick!"  
  
He looked to the other side of the bridge. He saw her standing there, so beautiful. Standing? How?  
  
"Babs?"  
  
She ran to him. As she did, he found himself running to her. He grabbed her, pulling her to him in a tight embrace and a passionate kiss.  
  
"I love you. How are you walking?"  
  
"Dick, I think we're dead."  
  
"What?"  
  
"I think we're dead."  
  
"But we're together."  
  
The black crow called out with his loud caw. Dick turned to the bird. He seemed to understand the animal. There was that connection. As he watched the bird fly below him, he felt as if he could see through the bird's eyes. He had to follow the bird. He didn't want to. He didn't want to leave Barbara. But he had no choice. The bird called to him. Their souls were connected. Tied together as if my some invisible tether.  
  
"Babs, I ... I have to go. I have to go back. I ... I have to follow the crow."  
  
"I know. I don't know how I know this, but I just do. I think I read it once, but I can't remember. What I remember is that once people believed that when someone dies, a crow carries their soul to the land of the dead. That's where we are now. But sometimes, something so bad happens that a terrible sadness is carried with it and the soul can't rest. Then sometimes, just sometimes, the crow can bring the soul back and put the wrong things right."  
  
"That's what I feel, Babs. I'm so angry right now. Not that we're together. I love being with you, wherever we are. But ... angry at what happened to us. Angry that our life was taken from us. Angry that I had to leave Bruce. You know what our deaths will do to him. Babs, it's something else too. I want retribution."  
  
"You have to do that Dick. You have to make things right. I'll wait for you here. I love you Dick."  
  
Instinctively, he jumped up on the bridge and dived off into the unknown, following the flying crow. A swirling, multicolored vortex opened up below the bridge. The crow and Dick both flew through the swirling lights. In an instant they were gone.  
  
"I'll wait for you here Dick," Babs whispered as a tear trickled from her eye, "for as long as it takes."  
  
TO BE CONTINUED ... 


	2. Chapter 2

Redemption Part 2:  
  
  
  
A swirling vortex opened up and a body tumbled down from the sky. He crashed into the fountain in Robinson Park. He stood up, drenched, water dripped from his bare chest. Looking down, he realized that he wore only a pair of jeans. Stumbling out of the fountain, he looked around the park.  
  
"Where ... how ...," he placed his hand to his head. It seemed to spin. Then he heard the caw. Looking up, his eyes met with those of the great black bird. Then the bird took flight. Instinctively, without understanding why, he followed the bird.  
  
  
  
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Bruce Wayne walked into the house. He had knocked several times, but received no answer. Bruce was worried about his friend. They were suppose to meet at Bruce's office. Today was the first anniversary of Dick and Barbara's death's. Walking into the living room, he saw Jim Gordon sitting in the dark room. Jim held a photograph of Barbara and Sarah, his left hand gently tracing their faces. His gun resting peacefully in his lap.  
  
"Jim?"  
  
"It's been a year. Doesn't seem like my little girl's been gone a year."  
  
"I know." he said quietly moving to sit beside his friend.  
  
"I miss them. Barbara, Sarah. I miss them both."  
  
"I know."  
  
"It would be easier to just ..."  
  
"No. Jim, it wouldn't. Not for you, or for any of us you'd leave behind."  
  
Jim Gordon looked into his friends caring eyes.  
  
"You do know, don't you? You understand the pain."  
  
"Yes. Losing my parents was a pain that I lived with my entire adult life. It drove me in ... everything I ever did. But the loss of my son, of Dick. Well, the loss of a child is unimaginable, unbearable. It was worse than I ever dreamed pain could be. But Jim, we endure. We have to. They live in our hearts and in our memories. Without us, where would they live?"  
  
Jim lowered his head into his hands. Without looking he handed the gun to his friend. Bruce took it and, leaving the sofa, walked with the gun into another room. Returning, he gently placed his hand on his friend's shoulder.  
  
"Ready to go?"  
  
"Yes. Let's go."  
  
  
  
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Roy walked around the Titan's conference table to the image of Nightwing gracing the wall of fallen Titans. Standing under the image, he looked up into the face of his friend.  
  
"I never thought you'd be up there Batboy. It's not fair, you know. Damn it! You didn't even get to go fighting the bad guys. It's hard without you, but I'm trying. Lian misses her Uncle Dick. And so does her daddy."  
  
"We all do Roy," Wally said walking beside his friend. A scarlet gloved hand touched Nightwing's image.  
  
"What are you doing here, Wally?"  
  
"Same as you," he said with a sigh. Together they stood in silence for a moment. Then Wally continued, "So, how's Bludhaven?"  
  
"Same ol' same ol'. That's one corrupt town. But I think I'm making headway. At least, I'm keeping things at the level Dick had gotten the city to before ... "  
  
"Yeah."  
  
  
  
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He walked through the city streets. Where was he headed? He wasn't sure. He just followed the crow. The Clocktower loomed in the distance. As he walked through the darkened city streets, unconnected images flashed through his mind. A beautiful woman with red hair and emerald green eyes; a man dressed as a bat accompanied by a multi-colored clad young boy. What did these flashes of ... what were they, memories ... mean? Who were the people he was seeing?  
  
A scream echoed through the night. He turned in the direction of the scream and walked into an alley. A woman was surrounded by four young men. Gang members by their clothes. As he approached he could hear the woman pleading with her captors. He also heard the men taunting her.  
  
"Hey babe, don't fight it. You'll enjoy it," one of the gang members said.  
  
"I don't think so."  
  
The gang members turned toward the voice. They saw the lone young man; he was shirtless and his jeans were still wet. He didn't appear very threatening to the gang.  
  
"Go away. This ain't your business."  
  
"I'm making it my business," he said, as his ice blue eyes took on a hard edge.  
  
One of the gang members moved from the woman toward the intruder, a knife in his hand. With unbelievable speed, the shirtless young man hit out with his bare hands, disarming his attacker. Then he shot out with a straight kick into the gang members chest. A kick so hard that it sent the recipient flying into the air. When he hit the wall, he fell to the ground unconscious.  
  
At this the remaining three gang members turned their attention to the intruder. As they menacingly started their approach; the young woman ran away.  
  
"You want some trouble, freak?"  
  
"Trouble comes to those who seek it."  
  
One of the gang members hit out with a lead pipe, as another member twirled a heavy chain in the air. The shirtless young man dodged the pipe. As the chain flew toward him, he caught it in midair. Twisting the chain around his left arm, he pulled it, jerking the gang member into his waiting right fist. With a roundhouse kick, he sent the lead pipe flying through he air. He then leaped into a somersault flying over the man's head and landing behind him. Grabbing the gang member, he forcefully slammed the man's head into the brick wall. He let the man slip to the ground unconscious. Then he turned to face the fourth gang member.  
  
BANG! BANG! BANG!  
  
Three bullets fired from a pistol into the exposed chest of the young man. He stumbled forward, then fell to his knees before toppling over.  
  
"Freak," the gunman said as he roused his companions and they fled the alley.  
  
The still body lay in the alley. Then a groan escaped his lips. He sat up. A surprised look on his face as he watched the bullet wounds close. No blood had seeped from his body.  
  
The crow cawed above him. He had to follow. There was somewhere he had to be. Again, he started following the crow.  
  
  
  
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The two men stood before the large marble monument.  
  
"Thank you Jim, for letting them lay together."  
  
"Where else should she be, Bruce. She loved your boy."  
  
"They loved each other. So much."  
  
"People thought you were going to bury him next to your parents and Jason in the cemetery."  
  
"I couldn't ... couldn't have him that far away from me Jim. I had to keep ... some part of him here at the Manor with me."  
  
"Is that why her apartment's remained untouched? Why you haven't even allowed the crime scene tape to be removed?" Jim asked.  
  
Bruce turned to his friend, a tear glistened in his eye, "No. This keeps them near me. That keeps me from forgetting. There's a clue there Jim, it just hasn't been found yet. Nothing's changing there until that clue is found," he responded determinedly.  
  
"Their killers will face justice, Bruce. One day."  
  
Alfred walked over to the two men. He had seemed to age many years in these past twelve months.  
  
"Sir, when you're ready, dinner is waiting."  
  
"Thank you Alfred. We'll be in shortly."  
  
"Master Timothy is here."  
  
A half smile crossed Bruce's face. Tim had been the only reason he hadn't lost his mind this past year. Dick's loss had hit them both so hard. It was a bond they shared and it had brought them closer together than they had been in the past.  
  
"I'll walk back to the house with you Alfred," Jim Gordon said as they left Bruce alone with his thoughts.  
  
Bruce turned back to the tombstone, his face solemn again.  
  
"I'm sorry Dick. I haven't found the people responsible for this yet. But I'm still looking. I'll always look until I find them. And I will find them Dick. I swear it. I miss you so much. If I could just see you again. One day Dick. One day," he said as he turned and started back toward the manor.  
  
  
  
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He walked following the crow until they were directly in front of the Clocktower. As he walked closer to the building, he felt the air around him change. For the first time, he noticed the cold in the air. It hit his bare skin like ice cubes. Suddenly, he stopped walking and looked down. He had stopped just in time to keep from stepping on a rose. A single red rose. Slowly, he bent down and picked it up.  
  
His head jerked as his mind was flooded with memories. Memories that were not his own. A man in his late thirties, with black hair and blue eyes, very similar to his own bending down in this same spot. The rose hadn't fallen there. It had been carefully placed. A tear fell from the man's eyes hitting the rose.  
  
"Bruce."  
  
Dick looked up at the Clocktower. The memory of being thrown from Barbara's window returned to him violently. He hurried into the building and up the stairs. Flight after flight he ascended, never tired nor winded. Breaking past the yellow crime scene tape, he entered the apartment.  
  
Nothing had changed. Everything was the same as it had been that night. He saw another solitary rose laying within the white tape that had traced off Barbara's body. He walked through the apartment and into the secret room housing Oracle's equipment. Silently, the equipment stared at him. He turned and walked back into the living room. Signs of their struggle were everywhere.  
  
He saw a photo of Barbara and himself. The glass shattered in the frame. He picked it up. As he did the flash of memories -- his and Barbara's mingled. He felt her pain. The torture she experienced before she died. He relived the pain of the gunshots he received and the pain of crashing sixteen stories into the hard Gotham street below. He had never thought that people who jumped or were pushed as he was felt the pain. He had thought death was instantaneous. It was, but so was the pain. Excruciating pain.  
  
"BARBARA!" he cried as he fell to the floor. "Why? Why am I here without you?" Tears began to flow from his eyes. They dropped on the floor. Black drops. His fingers moved into the small black pools as he felt the unknown substance. Then Dick noticed that his fingernails were turning black. Looking up, he caught sight of his face in the mirror. His face was white, as if he wore paste make-up. Black circles around his eyes joined with black tear stains on his face. His lips were black.  
  
Deep inside him, he felt a panic start to grow. What was happening? What was he? His mind started to race as the horror of his situation began to set in. Barbara. He remembered leaving Barbara. He remembered returning. He knew why he was here.  
  
The crow cawed as it flew in the broken window and perched on his shoulder.  
  
To be continued .... 


	3. Chapter 3

Redemption Part 3:  
  
Bruce walked into the practice area of the cave. He stopped and watched as a seventeen year old Tim worked through a series of acrobatic movements. Those were the last moves Dick had taught the boy. Tim worked on them nightly, as if it kept him close to his lost older brother. Tim had grown so much this past year; he was taller, stronger. Bruce had a warm feeling when the boy was near. Tim's presence had helped him through the torment of Dick's death. Helped to keep him sane. As he watched the boy, a half smile formed on his lips.  
  
"Ready to go on patrol?"  
  
"Tonight?" Tim asked, jumping from the parallel bars.  
  
"Yes."  
  
"I thought ... well, it's just ... I wasn't sure if ..."  
  
"We'll patrol, Tim. We have to. Tonight more than any other. I won't let any other parent go through what Jim and I have if I can help it."  
  
"I'll suit up," Tim said as he raced off to the uniform vault.  
  
Bruce walked over to the glass case enclosed around Nightwing's uniform. It sat next to Jason's Robin costume. Bruce looked at the brass plate on Jason's memorial: "A Good Soldier"; then he looked at Dick's plaque: "Hero, Leader, Son".  
  
"Why?"  
  
He turned and followed Tim into the uniform vault.  
  
  
  
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He rummaged through Barbara's closet. He remembered that he had kept some clothes here. He wondered if they were still there. Moving from the closet, he crossed the room. Going through the dresser drawers, he pulled out a black T-shirt and quickly put it on. He walked from the bedroom through the living room to the entry hall of the apartment, he stopped at the coat closet. Opening the door, he pulled out the black leather jacket he had worn to Barbara's that last night. Putting it on, he headed into the black Gotham night.  
  
  
  
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Inside the Jackson Street Pawn Shop, the clerk cowered in fear as one of the joker's henchman held a gun on him. Meanwhile, his three henchmen ransacked the store.  
  
"I hate it when Mr. Joker sends us shopping," Orlando said as he gathered supplies.  
  
"How about a nice long shopping break?" Robin said as a batarang flew through the store hitting Orlando in the face. As Orlando fell to the store floor, Robin advanced toward the man holding a gun on the shop clerk.  
  
"I'll shoot you bird boy," the nervous gunman said.  
  
"Do I look worried?" Robin replied to the man's threat, jumping out and kicking, he quickly disarmed the gunman. As Robin landed, he punched quickly with his left fist. The gunman went down with a thud.  
  
Batman swooped into the store behind Robin. With lightning speed, he took out two of the Joker's men. As the two henchmen fell to the ground, Orlando stirred from the spot on the floor where he had fallen. He saw his crew dropping before Batman and Robin, and quickly decided to make an exit. Jumping up, he ran from the pawn shop.  
  
"Batman!" Robin yelled as he spotted the fleeing criminal.  
  
"Secure these three Robin. I'll get him," Batman calmly replied.  
  
Orlando ran into the alley around the corner from the store; past the homeless people keeping warm by lighted fires. His breathing was heavy as he tried to flee the Batman. Lightning flashed in the ebony sky. Orlando felt a desperate need to escape.  
  
"Mister Joker ain't gonna like this," he said aloud as he ran.  
  
"The wages of sin," a deep voice called out in the night stopping Orlando in his tracks. He turned around expecting to see Batman. What he saw terrified him more. A chill ran down his spine as he looked at the figure before him.  
  
"Whhooo ... Whhaatt are you man?"  
  
"Your worst nightmare," came from the darkly clad man. His face paste white. Black tear stains around his eyes.  
  
"You ... you ain't the Bat."  
  
"No, I'm not."  
  
The man before Orlando jumped in the air, spinning, and landed behind Orlando. With inhuman speed, he grabbed Orlando by the throat.  
  
"You and the Joker and another man murdered two people a year ago. Barbara Gordon and Dick Grayson. Do you remember?"  
  
"The girl in the wheelchair. I ... I remember."  
  
"Who was the other man? Who else was there?"  
  
"Deacon."  
  
As he held Orlando, Dick's head jerked.  
  
He had a flash, another vision. He was seeing through Orlando's eyes. Swirling lights of black and red framed the memories of Orlando and Deacon. Dick watched as they through him out of the Clocktower window. He saw how they laughed after he went through the window. He saw himself falling as they watched. Then he saw them turn toward Barbara, leering looks on their faces. He watched as they advanced toward her. Heard her screams. He saw what they did to her. How they beat her. How they touched her in places that only he should have touched her.  
  
A cold fury went through his body.  
  
As the vision ended, he took his right hand. His long black fingernails quickly scratched a bloody crow print into Orlando's cheek.  
  
As Orlando cried out in pain, Dick grabbed Orlando's head and whispered in his ear, "Re-live that night, re-live their pain. Forever let it haunt your dreams and your waking moments. And tell the Joker and Deacon that the Crow comes for them." Throwing the criminal from his grasp, Dick jumped hitting Orlando with both feet, crushing the bones in both of Orlando's arms. Turning to leave, Dick looked toward the entrance of the alley. He stopped as he faced the Batman.  
  
Batman had watched the scene before him. He heard Orlando's scream of agony; but he had not been able to make out the words that transpired between the two. He stared at the young man dressed in black with the painted face of a sad clown. There was something familiar about him. Eerily familiar. The way he stood, the way he moved. Too familiar.  
  
"Who are you?" Batman asked as the two men faced each other.  
  
Saying nothing, the young man turned from Batman and started to walk away. Thunder rumbled above them in the darkened skies above.  
  
"Who are you?" Batman demanded as he approached.  
  
"Not your problem," a voice called out without turning to face the cowled man.  
  
"Gotham is MY city. No one plays vigilante here without my knowing it."  
  
Robin had entered the alley as Batman approached the black clad man. He watched as Batman closed the gap between him and the stranger. The stranger who had stopped walking away. The stranger who turned to face them as lightning flashed across the sky illuminating the alley. Robin let out an audible gasp as he saw the man.  
  
Batman felt as if he had been hit in the stomach; HARD. He lost his breath as he looked at the boy before him. Gone was the white face, the black tear stains. Before him stood his son. Dick Grayson. His dead son.  
  
"Dick?" He stated as their eyes locked.  
  
Robin approached the two men. As he grew closer, he could tell that the man dressed in black was Dick Grayson. A wide smile formed on Robin's face. He felt a tear escape his eyes and roll under his mask and onto his cheek. He grabbed Dick into a bear hug.  
  
"Oh God, Dick, is it really you?" he cried.  
  
"Yeah, it's me," Dick responded, his blue eyes never leaving Batman's.  
  
"How?" Robin asked excitedly.  
  
"It's a long story," Dick replied.  
  
"How do I know it's really you?" Batman asked as he found his voice again. His heart so wanted this to be his son. But his mind told him it was impossible. Dick was dead. Dead and buried a year ago. This was probably an impostor. Had to be an impostor. But, God, he didn't want it to be.  
  
Dick walked closer to Batman and whispered, "It's me Bruce."  
  
The Batmobile entered the alley, responding to its silent summons. Batman turned and walked to the car.  
  
"This is not the place for a long story. The cave. Robin follow in the Redbird."  
  
"Gotcha," Robin said. He found he couldn't stop smiling.  
  
Dick followed Batman and sat in the Batmobile. He felt Batman's eyes on him as they rode toward the Batcave. They sat in silence for the long drive. There were many times during the drive that he started to speak, but found that no words would come. He assumed Batman was experiencing the same feelings. Dick hadn't expected to run into his family. Why he hadn't, he wasn't sure. He hadn't thought about seeing them since his return. His mind had been filled with thoughts of revenge. Facing his father had brought up new, different emotions.  
  
As the Batmobile and Redbird roared into their parking slots in the Cave, Alfred walked down the stairs into the cave; a silver tray in his hands.  
  
"Master Bruce, would you and Master Timothy care for some hot cocoa?" he asked as he headed toward the table near the computer's main frame. He had not looked in the direction of the cars.  
  
"Hi Alfred," Dick said gently.  
  
At the sound of the familiar voice forever thought silenced, the tray fell to the floor. The sound of the breaking china echoed throughout the cave. Alfred turned to face the three men standing before him.  
  
Dick rushed over to Alfred and bent down to pick up the broken pieces of China.  
  
"I'm sorry Al ..."  
  
Alfred's hand went under the young man's chin stopping him in mid- sentence. Gently, he raised the young man's chin until he looked directly into Dick's deep blue eyes. Alfred's old hand trembled as he urged Dick to stand.  
  
"Master Dick. It's really you, isn't it?"  
  
"Yeah."  
  
Alfred pulled Dick into a hug. Tears fell from his eyes. He looked across the cave, his eyes locking with Bruce's who had removed his cowl. "He's home, he's really home."  
  
Dick turned toward Bruce. Bruce stood motionless watching the scene before him. His heart and mind fighting with each other. Tim and Alfred had so willingly believed this was Dick. He HAD called him Bruce. But there are people who know his real name -- Ra's, yes, this could be one of his tricks.  
  
Dick started toward Bruce. He knew his father. He knew this was hard for him. Knew that he questioned the reality of the situation.  
  
"It's me Bruce. Really. I know it's hard for you to believe, but I'm really here."  
  
"Where have you been?"  
  
"That's not going to be easy to explain," Dick responded with a slight smile.  
  
"I'd guess not. Since we all thought you had been killed a year ago!" Bruce said as his voice raised more than he wanted it to. He was trying to keep his emotions in check. Emotions which betrayed him. He had to stay focused, stay logical. "If that wasn't you who went through Barbara's window, who was it? And where have you been? You went to Barbara's that night. She died. Someone else died. Obviously it wasn't you. Where did you go?"  
  
"Bruce," Dick started.  
  
Without letting him start his explanation, Bruce continued, "If you're Dick, you're a detective. What does it look like to you? Objectively what would you be thinking?"  
  
Alfred and Tim watched the interplay between the two. They knew in their hearts that it was Dick who stood before them. They didn't care how. But they all knew Bruce. Knew he couldn't just believe his heart. It was agonizing to watch.  
  
"You know me, Bruce. You know me better than anyone ever has. You know it's me!" Dick said as he approached his father.  
  
"I want to believe that. But Dick ..."  
  
"What? What are you asking me Bruce? Are you asking if I killed Babs? If I made it look like I had been murdered! You know better than that!" Dick yelled the last part. He had been through so much. Too much. No one alive could fully understand what he had endured. How could Bruce question him like this? But it's Bruce, how could he not?  
  
"If you were me, what would you be thinking?"  
  
"I don't know Bruce. I'm still not sure I know what I'm thinking about this. But I wouldn't be thinking what you are." Dick felt his anger dissipate.  
  
"I want you to be Dick. My Dick, my son. I want you safe and alive and here. But I need an explanation. Something I can understand."  
  
Dick sighed and turned away from Bruce. He walked, no paced, around the cave. "I don't know if I can give you that. I don't understand it myself. Babs and I. We. Were. Murdered. We ended up someplace ... I dunno, the land of the dead I guess. But I came back. I don't know how. Don't know why. All I knew was that I had to follow this crow. Didn't even know who I was until I picked up that rose you left on the street where I died. Then it all came back to me. And when it did, all I wanted was revenge. Revenge against our murderers."  
  
Bruce watched Dick as he paced around telling his story. It was incredible. Too incredible to be true. But he had seen many incredible things in his life, hadn't he? Why couldn't this be true?  
  
"So, your story is that you died and now you're alive again."  
  
"It's not a story! It's the truth," his blue eyes looked imploringly at the man who was his father.  
  
Bruce looked at his son. He watched his eyes. He had learned many things in his years as Batman. One was to know the truth when he heard it. As incredible as the story was to believe, he knew this was Dick. Knew he was telling the truth; at least what he thought was the truth. Walking over to the boy, he tentatively placed his hands on Dick's shoulders.  
  
"My son." A tear escaped his eye and rolled down his cheek. Dick closed the gap between them, tightly hugging Bruce. He felt his own tears flow. As he hugged his father, Dick felt his body jerk as he experienced another of these new flashes. Different than those he had previously experienced. There were no sights, no pictures of memories. Just feelings. They weren't his, they belonged to another. Bruce. He felt the pain that Bruce had suffered since his death. He experienced Bruce's hidden, repressed emotions. But more than that, he knew Bruce's love for him.  
  
All those times, all those arguments and misunderstandings they had in the past. All the times he felt inadequate, unsure; it was all gone. He knew how Bruce felt about him. Finally he knew. He felt like he did when he was nine years old; safe and secure in Bruce's arms.  
  
"Ahem, I think this would be a good time for us to retire upstairs," Alfred said.  
  
Dick and Bruce turned and walked toward Alfred and Tim. The four men stopped when they heard the cawing of a crow. Turning toward the cave entrance, they saw the large black bird fly into the cave. The bats above started to swoop down upon the bird. But the onyx eyes of the bird faced the bats and they turned to hide in the deep recesses of the cave. The crow flew over and perched on Dick's shoulder.  
  
"Uh, he goes with me."  
  
"And they call me bird boy," Tim said.  
  
  
  
***********************************************************************  
  
Dick walked around the study. Memories filled his mind. Bruce and Tim watched as Dick paced around the room, obviously deep in thought. It seemed as if he was looking at the room for the first time.  
  
Tentatively, Bruce walked over to his son.  
  
"Dick?"  
  
Dick stopped his pacing and looked at his father. He could tell Bruce had to ask him something. He was, also, afraid he knew what Bruce was going to ask.  
  
"Who murdered you and Barbara?"  
  
Tim moved closer to the other two men.  
  
"Don't you know?" Dick asked.  
  
"No, I ..." Bruce guiltily turned away. He couldn't face his son. The guilt of not having found the murderer pressed in on him. This guilt had ate at Bruce's soul throughout this last year. "I haven't been able to find ... the clues, I haven't ... "  
  
Dick placed his hand gently on Bruce's arm, stopping Bruce from continuing.  
  
"It's okay, Bruce," then calmly stated, "It was the Joker."  
  
Bruce's blue eyes grew cold with fury as his mind began to comprehend what he had just heard. Joker. Joker had killed his son. Joker had killed Barbara.  
  
"Why?" was the only word that could escape his lips.  
  
Dick turned from Bruce and walked toward the large study window. In a very retrospective manner, he calmly stated, "Why does he do anything?"  
  
"He always has a reason for what he does. In his mind, it's logical."  
  
"He said he was finishing what he started a few years ago. I guess he meant with Babs."  
  
"He meant Jim Gordon," Bruce said as he realized the Joker's motivation. "He was angry with Gordon for retiring."  
  
"Sounds like him," Dick said resignedly. As he did, lightning flashed across the night sky. For the first time, Dick saw the large granite memorial in the back yard. His eyes grew wide as he pressed his hand against the pane of glass. "What is that?" he asked tentatively, as he felt a knot form in his stomach.  
  
Bruce and Tim walked over to stand by each side of Dick.  
  
"Your graves," Bruce solemnly said.  
  
Dick moved to the large French doors that led out onto the verandah. Slowly he moved outside and started toward the granite monument. As he approached, his pace got faster. Thunder roared throughout the night sky. Lightning continued to flash.  
  
Bruce and Tim followed Dick onto the verandah. Tim had just stepped foot on the cool grass, following as Dick headed towards the monument, when Bruce stopped him.  
  
"But ... " Tim started to protest.  
  
"Let him go alone."  
  
Dick stood before the grave, looking up at the marker. He read their names, their birth dates, their death dates. The same day. His mind went to that night again. The pain. Her screams. His mind went back further, nights flying together in the Gotham sky. Making love with each other. Leaving her on that bridge. Having to leave her because of his pain. Being ripped from her again. Their lives being ripped away from them. Stolen by that laughing madman.  
  
"Barbara!" he cried out loudly as he dropped to his knees. His hand touching her name on the grave stone. The black crow perched on top of the marker. "BARBARA!"  
  
Rain started to fall, as if the heavens themselves were crying.  
  
  
  
To be continued ... 


	4. Chapter 4

REDEMPTION: PART 4:  
  
The morning sun shone brightly over Wayne Manor, drying the ground the night's storm had soaked. Dick Grayson stood at his bedroom window looking out onto the grounds. The monument in the center of the yard kept his attention. Barbara lay there. Silent. Still. Dead. Covered by the earth. Yet, in his mind, she was vibrant. Moving, talking, laughing, flying, loving.  
  
He could see her tilt her head as she would look at him over her glasses, exasperated at one of his bad jokes. Her green eyes shone at him. His mind flashed into the past.  
  
"How can you tell such horrible jokes?" Barbara laughed at him.  
  
"Easy, years of practice," he replied with a laugh as he sat on her counter, his Nightwing mask in his hands, watching her work at her consoles.  
  
"Short pants, I wouldn't brag about that," she replied.  
  
All he needed was Barbara. But Barbara wasn't here, and she never would be. She was dead. But unlike Dick, she had stayed that way. All night he had sat in the silent darkness of his room watching her grave. Silent tears fell from his eyes.  
  
Bruce had told him to sleep. Bruce didn't understand. Dick no longer needed sleep. He didn't need food. He was dead. Granted he was walking, talking, and feeling, well sometimes feeling, some things. But it wasn't the same. It would never be the same again.  
  
"Master Dick," Alfred began tentatively as he opened the door. He received no answer as Dick continued to stare out of his window. "Master Dick, breakfast is ready."  
  
"No thanks, Alfred."  
  
"Young man you should come downstairs. You need to eat."  
  
Dick turned toward the older man. He could see the care in the old grey eyes that looked at him. He almost smiled.  
  
"Not really. Not anymore," Dick replied, then seeing the disappointment in Alfred's face, relented, "but I'll come downstairs. In a minute, okay."  
  
Alfred smiled as his young charge agreed to leave his room. Last night had been eventful. Master Dick had returned from ... well, Master Dick was home. That's all that truly mattered. Alfred closed the door, walking down the hallway towards the staircase. As he did, he heard the doorbell ring. They weren't expecting anyone, especially this early.  
  
Walking across the large entryway, Alfred stopped and opened the door. He let out an audible gasp.  
  
"Hey Al, we thought we'd drop by for the day," Roy said as he and Lian walked past Alfred.  
  
"Oh my word, " Alfred whispered as he shut the door. This was not a good thing. Although he knew Roy meant well, The Masters did not exactly need company this morning. Besides taking up residence as Bludhaven's new protector, Roy had taken it upon himself since Dick's death to "check up" on Bruce periodically, as if he was keeping some solemn promise.  
  
"So, Al," Roy began as Lian started walking around the very large room, "we thought we'd stop by and check on things. You know, given what yesterday was. How is he?"  
  
"He is much better than you would imagine, Master Roy."  
  
"Good. He broods too much."  
  
"That has always been true," Alfred agreed.  
  
"Unca Dick, you're back," they heard Lian cry out. Roy quickly turned as he saw his daughter running to the young man on the staircase.  
  
"Lian!" Roy shouted, "Lian, wait! Stop!"  
  
The child turned a quizzical expression to her father, then continued up the stairs to her 'uncle'. "You're back."  
  
Dick smiled slightly as he bent down to the child, "Yes, Lian, I'm back."  
  
Roy eyed the man on the stairs. Yeah, he looked like Dick, sounded like Dick. But Dick was dead. Roy definitely did not like having this impostor near his daughter.  
  
"Alfred, what the hell is going on here?"  
  
"It's sort of complicated Roy," Dick started as he took Lian's hand and continued down the stairs.  
  
"Lian, come here," Roy said protectively.  
  
The little girl calmly walked over to her father, a puzzled look on her face, "What's wrong Daddy? Unca Dick's home. And you said he couldn't come home."  
  
"Miss Lian, why don't we go to the kitchen for some breakfast?" Alfred asked as he took the child by the hand and led her away. They walked past Bruce who had silently entered the room.  
  
Roy eyed Dick like he was a stranger. Then he turned his eyes to Bruce. "You don't believe this, do you?" he asked, an edge of anger in his voice. His friend was dead, and someone was posing as him. Bruce had to know better. Why was he letting someone do this? Why was he letting this impostor continue to be able to walk?  
  
Dick spoke before Bruce, "Roy, it's really me. I know it's hard to believe, but it's me."  
  
"Don't! Don't even start with me. My best friend died, horribly, a year ago. I don't know who you are, but ..."  
  
"Roy!" Bruce said, his voice low but commanding. "It is Dick. No trick, no impostor. As unreal as it seems, this is Dick."  
  
"Have you been brainwashed or something?" Roy asked in disbelief.  
  
"No."  
  
"Doing drugs?  
  
"No."  
  
"Would I even know if you were?"  
  
"No," Bruce replied.  
  
"So that's really him?" Roy asked pointing at Dick, but speaking as though he weren't in the room.  
  
"Yes," Bruce sighed.  
  
Walking over to Dick, Roy still wasn't sure, "If you're Dick, are you a ghost?"  
  
"Something like that," Dick replied.  
  
"This is a bunch of bullsh..." Roy started. He stopped suddenly when Dick grabbed him by the head with both hands. Roy was consumed by a flash of swirling memories, memories that weren't his own: He saw himself, through Dick's eyes, as a young boy, as Speedy the sidekick of the Green Arrow, his entry into the Titans and his friendship with a multicolored clad young man called Robin. They were rivals, they were friends. Roy saw himself in drug rehab, Dick by his side. Then he saw Dick in Barbara's apartment, being shot, going through the window, in a forest, on a bridge, and jumping from that bridge... "Oh my God. Dick?"  
  
"I told you it's me," Dick replied.  
  
"Well, stranger things have happened... can't recall one right now, but they have happened. You care to explain?"  
  
"Over breakfast," Bruce responded as he motioned for them to follow him. Roy turned toward Dick who simply shrugged. Together, they walked behind Bruce to the kitchen.  
  
Over the meal, Bruce more than Dick, explained to Roy what they knew. Dick walked around the kitchen, never once sitting down. Roy shook his head as he soaked up the knowledge.  
  
"This is too incredible," Roy said when Bruce was finished. "But, if it's really you, I don't care how it happened. I'm just glad to have you back," Roy smiled a wide smile.  
  
Dick turned toward him with a melancholy smile.  
  
"Wait until I tell the rest of the Titans. Donna's going to be so excited, and Wally..."  
  
"Don't," Dick said.  
  
"Don't? What do you mean don't?"  
  
"I don't want them to know."  
  
"And why the hell not?" Roy asked in anger.  
  
"Roy, I don't understand exactly why I'm back, or how long I'll be here. There's no need to tell them about me, when I may be ... gone again...in the near future."  
  
"Gone again? You mean..."  
  
"Yes."  
  
Bruce's hand raised to his eyes as he listened to this conversation. He and Dick had a similar conversation the night before after Dick finally came in from Barbara's grave. Bruce planned to do some research today, he had already told Tim what he wanted. Bruce had never researched the paranormal, life after death. But now he had to. Dick needed information. He needed information. And he hoped, no prayed, that he would find evidence that his son would remain here with him. Dick, however, kept talking as if he would be leaving soon. This time, forever.  
  
Roy changed the subject, "I...I've been taking care of Bludhaven for you."  
  
Dick eyed Roy at the words, a slight smile on his lips, he understood his friend. This was his way of honoring Dick. If Dick could feel happiness, this would have made him happy. "Thanks Roy."  
  
"Will you be going back there, taking over? While you're here?"  
  
"No. I don't care about that anymore. Nightwing is dead. Just because Dick Grayson's back, don't think Nightwing is. I don't care about anything like I use to. I have a mission. Once it's finished, once I've set things right, I'll go back to Barbara. Back where I belong."  
  
"A mission?" Roy asked.  
  
"Revenge," Dick responded calmly. Then he simply turned and walked out of the room, out of the house, towards Barbara's grave.  
  
Roy turned to Bruce, who still sat with his head in his hand. Roy walked to Bruce, and gently placed his hands on the older man's shoulder. He didn't know what to say, so he stood there in supportive silence.  
  
***********************************************************************  
  
As night fell over the Manor, Bruce found Dick doing his own research in the Batcave. Bruce walked over to see what he was working on.  
  
"Looking for someone named Deacon?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"He was there that night?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
Bruce breathed deeply before asking the next question, "What do you intend to do?"  
  
"Deliver justice," Dick replied, his blue eyes locking with Bruce's.  
  
"Justice and vengeance are not the same thing."  
  
"My justice is," Dick replied coldly and turned back to his research. He had called up every file the Batcomputer had on criminals named Deacon. He had been weeding through their mug shots all day. He would find the man he searched for tonight.  
  
Bruce worried about Dick. He knew he couldn't begin to understand what his son had gone through, was still going through. Bruce wanted to help, he just wasn't sure how. But if he could find out something, anything, about how Dick had returned, why he had returned, that would help.  
  
Bruce turned around and saw the vacant chair at the Batcomputer. On the large screen was a mug shot of Deacon Cast. Quickly walking to the computer, he pressed the call button. His fingers tapped a rhythm waiting for someone to pick up.  
  
"May I be of assistance, Sir?" Alfred's voice sounded over the communications system.  
  
"Where are you Alfred?"  
  
"The study, Sir."  
  
"Have you seen Dick?" Bruce asked, worry in his tone.  
  
"I thought he was downstairs with you," Alfred replied, his tone beginning to mirror Bruce's.  
  
"He was just hear, and now ... well, he ... uh ... he's disappeared."  
  
Tim ran into the Cave through his special entrance, "Bruce, I think I found something out, about Dick." Tim handed the papers to Bruce who quickly scanned them.  
  
"Oh God, he doesn't realize," Bruce said aloud as he quickly headed for the uniform vault.  
  
***********************************************************************  
  
A large black crow flew over Gotham City. Its eyes looked at the world in colors of red and black. Dick Grayson was part of this crow. Shared souls on a shared mission. He saw the world through the crow's eyes. And finally, he saw their prey.  
  
Deacon Cast walked the pier near the old Gotham amusement park. A crow flew past his head. He waved his hands by his head. "Damn bird," he mumbled as he continued walking. Then a chill went down his spine. He stopped, turning to stare into the stillness of the night. Turning around, he continued walking. His pace quickened. He turned, looking behind him, there was nothing there. Yet, he felt a presence. And what he felt terrified him. Deacon started to run.  
  
"The wicked flee the hand of righteousness. But their flight is in vain," a deep voice called out from the blackness of the night. A voice that chilled Deacon to the bone. He had heard that voice before. His mind raced back to a year earlier. At the Clocktower. The night he and Orlando helped the Joker kill that girl and her boyfriend. He had spoken to the boy...  
  
"I bet Mr. Joker'd let you watch if you ask nice," Deacon had said to the boy who lay wounded and bleeding on the floor from two of the Joker's bullets.  
  
"Go to hell," the wounded young man had growled out.  
  
"You first," Deacon had replied, as he and Orlando lifted the boy throwing him to a certain death from the apartment's window.  
  
"Go to hell," the wounded young man had growled out. In the same voice Deacon now heard. It was impossible.  
  
Deacon froze in his tracks. "Who...who are you? Where are you?" he asked with a shaking voice.  
  
"Everywhere and nowhere," the voice responded.  
  
"Why are you here?" Deacon asked as he turned in circles trying to find the disembodied voice.  
  
"Delivering justice," the voice replied as he stepped into Deacon's view. The sight of the man dressed in black, his face white as paste, black markings around his eyes and lips, sent a cold fear down Deacon's spine.  
  
Deacon turned and ran. His breath was short as he ran. He felt he ran for his life. Entering the abandoned amusement park, he ran toward the fun house. He ran past the broken mirrors, the distorted views of himself. Ran into the man he was running from. Deacon screamed as he fell backwards onto the floor.  
  
"Scared? You should be."  
  
"We...we killed you," Deacon stuttered.  
  
The Crow that had been Dick Grayson smiled at Deacon with black lips. A smile that caused Deacon to break into a sweat. "I know," he calmly replied. "Remember when I told you to go to hell? You told me to go first. I did. Now, it's your turn," the Crow replied, his voice getting louder, wilder sounding. "All aboard the Hellbound Express..." he called out as he walked around Deacon, his voice mocking a train conductors.  
  
"Puh...puh...puhlease don't kill me, " Deacon cried out as his body shook in fear.  
  
Kneeling down so they were eye to eye, Dick replied, "Babs said that, as you raped her, as you beat her. How'd you answer?"  
  
Tears fell from Deacon's eyes. His body shook, but he could no longer move. He felt frozen in place, paralyzed with fear.  
  
"How does it feel? Do you like the fear?" Dick asked as he held his hands out to firmly grasp Deacon's head. "Enjoy it. Every day for the rest of your life. Live with the fear you have now."  
  
Deacon screamed in agony as his punishment was handed out.  
  
"What is all the racket? Can't a guy get some sleep around here," the Joker said yawning as he entered the room.  
  
As he looked into the face of the Crow, Deacon screamed again. A sadistic smile had crept upon the Crow's face.  
  
"And here I thought I was going to have to look for you," the Crow said.  
  
  
  
To be continued .... 


	5. Chapter 5

REDEMPTION PART 5:  
  
"What is all the racket? Can't a guy get some sleep around here," the Joker said yawning as he entered the room.  
  
As he looked into the face of the Crow, Deacon screamed again. A sadistic smile had crept upon the Crow's face.  
  
"And here I thought I was going to have to look for you," the Crow said.  
  
  
  
***********************************************************************  
  
"Robin!" Batman called, activating his communicator.  
  
"I'm here," Robin replied as his face came on the screen.  
  
"Anything on Cast?"  
  
"He's definitely one of Joker's men. Has been for years. Usually hangs out near the pier."  
  
"I'm on my way."  
  
Batman drove the Batmobile through the streets of Gotham like the proverbial bat out of hell. He had to find Dick. He had to find him before it was too late. He had failed Dick a year ago. Had let him die. He couldn't fail him now. The stakes were even higher.  
  
"Oh God, please. Please help him. Or let me help him," he prayed aloud as he continued his hunt for Deacon Cast. He knew where Cast was, Dick wouldn't be far behind. He had to tell Dick what he had learned.  
  
  
  
***********************************************************************  
  
"Weeelll, what have we here," he said gleefully as he saw Deacon writhing in fear on the floor.  
  
At the sound of the voice he hated most in the world, Dick stood tall and straight, his back to the Joker. Slowly, he extended his hands out to his side, like a bird spreading his wings. His movements were deliberate. Calculated. Deadly. Methodically, he turned around.  
  
"Bwahahahahaha," the Joker's laughed echoed through the fun house. Then it stopped as suddenly as it started. "Copyright infringement!" he yelled at the top of his lungs as he pointed at the Crow with his long, lanky finger, "I will sue! The scary clown gig is allllll mine. Who do you think you are?"  
  
"Retribution. Righteous anger. Revenge."  
  
"Been done," Joker replied as he pulled a loaded pistol from his purple jacket and calmly shot Dick in the chest until the magazine clicked empty.  
  
  
  
***********************************************************************  
  
"Batman, you don't think that Dick would really..."  
  
"I don't know Robin. He's...different."  
  
"Not that different. He's Dick."  
  
"Dick...died. Now, he's..." Batman found it hard to focus, hard to say what he was thinking. So much last night the boy before him was his son; but at the same time, he was so different. "You didn't see him in the alley last night, not like I did."  
  
  
  
***********************************************************************  
  
With his hands clutching at the gunshot wounds to his chest, Dick looked up at the Joker and smiled. As he did so, he dropped to his knees, then toppled onto the floor. Dead.  
  
"Ah, so much for the impostor." Joker said as he turned around, yawning again. "Wonder what's on the cartoon channel?"  
  
"Joker," Dick called out.  
  
The Joker turned to face the man he had just killed standing before him. "Didn't I just kill you?" he asked seemingly unfazed.  
  
"It wasn't the first time," Dick replied.  
  
  
  
***********************************************************************  
  
This wasn't fair, Bruce thought as he drove to the pier. If they -- whoever they were who sent Dick back -- were going to send him here, they should have given him instructions. How could they send him back like this? How could they give him these powers and this anger and not let him know the danger they were placing his very soul in.  
  
As he continued his search, he spotted the abandoned amusement park. The funhouse caught his attention.  
  
"Cast works for Joker. The funhouse. Dear God, don't let me be too late," Bruce pleaded desperately as he raced toward the funhouse.  
  
  
  
***********************************************************************  
  
"You're almost as pesky as the Batman," Joker replied with a sigh.  
  
"I'm not Batman."  
  
"No, you're not nearly as entertaining. Let's cut to the chase, I have places to go, people to kill. Tell me how to make you die?"  
  
"Been there, done that, came back. I have an idea though, I'll die when I take you with me," Dick said as he grabbed the Joker, violently turning him, so his back was against Dick's body.  
  
"Is this a new cha-cha-cha?" Joker asked.  
  
The anger in Dick grew. The Crow was in complete control. And the Crow was angry that the Joker showed no fear. With his left hand draping across the Joker's left shoulder, grabbing hold of the Joker's right shoulder, Dick took his right hand, gripping the Joker's head.  
  
Batman entered the fun house to see what was happening. He felt sick as he knew what Dick was about to do. He cried out, "No!" But he cried out too late, for as he screamed, Dick snapped the Joker's neck like a breaking twig. Then, Dick let the Joker's limp, lifeless body, drop at his feet. "No," Batman whispered.  
  
Dick looked up at Batman. His face was Dick's once again. Stepping over the Joker's body, he walked calmly toward his father.  
  
"Dick," Bruce began, as he reached up and removed is cowl, " son..."  
  
"I'm sorry. I know how you feel about killing. But things are different for me now. My rules are different. I'm done now."  
  
"No, you don't understand Dick."  
  
"Bruce, you don't understand. This is why I came back. To set things right. I've done what I had to. It's time for me to go."  
  
"Dick, you really need to listen to me," Bruce implored his son. But Dick was still talking.  
  
"I don't want to leave you, but I want to be with Barbara. I have to be with her. But I'll still be with you," he said as his hand reached out touching his father's chest, "here. We'll be together again."  
  
"Dick..."  
  
A swirling white and yellow light appeared in the middle of the room. Bruce and Dick turned toward the light. Perhaps what he read was wrong, Bruce thought. In the center of the light, they both saw Barbara. Her hands outstretched to Dick.  
  
"I love you Bruce," Dick said as he walked toward the light. As he walked toward Barbara. His hand outstretched to her.  
  
Bruce felt a single tear fall from his eye as he watched his son walk away from him. Was this forever?  
  
As Dick neared the light he reached out to touch it, to touch Barbara's hand.  
  
Savagely, violently, he was thrown across the room. He hit the wall with a dull thud. The light and Barbara disappeared. Bruce watched. He realized his mouth was open. He wasn't sure what to make of what he had seen. This was what he had feared.  
  
Dick sat up on his knees. He started crawling towards where Barbara and the light had been.  
  
"Nooo! Don't leave me! I set things right! Please! Barbara! Barbara!" he cried. On his hands and knees, he cried.  
  
The sound of police sirens filled the air. Quickly replacing his cowl, Batman walked over to his son. Reaching down, he grabbed him by the shoulders. "We have to leave. The police are coming. We can't be found here with the Joker's body."  
  
"I don't care. I don't care anymore," Dick said as he looked up at Batman with tears in his eyes. "I don't understand. I set things right. That's what I was supposed to do. I got revenge."  
  
"It's not about revenge Dick, it's about redemption. I'll explain later, but please, let's leave. We have to leave," Batman said softly as he pulled the boy up and ushered him out of the building.  
  
"Redemption?" Dick whispered as they headed into the night.  
  
  
  
To be continued...... 


	6. Chapter 6

Redemption Part 6  
  
Bruce felt a single tear fall from his eye as he watched his son walk away from him. Was this forever?  
  
As Dick neared the light he reached out to touch it, to touch Barbara's hand.  
  
Savagely, violently, he was thrown across the room. He hit the wall with a dull thud. The light and Barbara disappeared. Bruce watched. He realized his mouth was open. He wasn't sure what to make of what he had seen. This was what he had feared.  
  
Dick sat up on his knees. He started crawling towards where Barbara and the light had been.  
  
"Nooo! Don't leave me! I set things right! Please! Barbara! Barbara!" he cried. On his hands and knees, he cried.  
  
The sound of police sirens filled the air. Quickly replacing his cowl, Batman walked over to his son. Reaching down, he grabbed him by the shoulders. "We have to leave. The police are coming. We can't be found here with the Joker's body."  
  
"I don't care. I don't care anymore," Dick said as he looked up at Batman with tears in his eyes. "I don't understand. I set things right. That's what I was supposed to do. I got revenge."  
  
"It's not about revenge Dick, it's about redemption. I'll explain later, but please, let's leave. We have to leave," Batman said softly as he pulled the boy up and ushered him out of the building.  
  
"Redemption?" Dick whispered as they headed into the night.  
  
_______________________________________________________________________  
  
Commission Aiken surveyed the scene before him.  
  
Police photographers were eagerly snapping photographs of the Joker's dead body. EMT's worked with the pathetic man groveling on the ground, obviously insane. He kept repeating "crow ... the crow comes" over and over.  
  
Aiken shook his head as he turned back to the sight of the Joker's broken lifeless body. He couldn't say he was unhappy Gotham City's worst scourge was finally dead. Yet, this was still a homicide that he and the GCPD had to investigate. They couldn't let a murderer go free -- not even when he deserved a medal whoever he was.  
  
Bullock walked over, "Hey Commish, think the city should throw a party?"  
  
Aiken briefly rolled his eyes and bit back a resounding yes. "Any clues?" He looked at the old fun house walls, graffiti obviously made by the Joker painted everywhere. Bat symbols crossed through with lines. Then he looked down at the Joker's dead body, the head tilted awkwardly to the right.  
  
"The whacko in the corner ain't much help. You know what everyone's whispering," Bullock said as he took a bite of his doughnut.  
  
"It's not his style. He doesn't kill."  
  
"If not the Bat, then who?"  
  
Aiken turned back to the cowering man in the corner as the words "Crow" echoed through his mind.  
  
_______________________________________________________________________  
  
"Anything on Torque's current location squirt?" Arsenal asked as he busily took out a few of Bludhaven's muggers.  
  
"Not yet, but I'm still looking," Tim replied as he frantically typed commands into the Crays. When Tim wasn't being Robin, he had taken to acting as an Oracle of sorts -- mainly for the Bat crew which now seemed to include Arsenal and the Black Canary. He heard the police emergency tapes going off to his side and he quickly turned to read the scrolls.  
  
His hands froze as he read the words, a chill running down his spine. "Oh God."  
  
"What?" Roy asked, hearing the stunned tone in the boy's voice.  
  
"Joker," Tim said almost emotionless.  
  
Roy Harper sighed. "He's out again? Great! Just what the big guy needs right now."  
  
"He's not ... out. He's ... dead. He was ... murdered."  
  
"Murdered!" Roy shouted as his mind raced through the possibilities. Quickly he fired a few arrows pinning the other members of the would be muggers gang to the warehouse wall. "I'm on my way."  
  
Tim found the strength to push himself away from the Bat computer and ran up the stairs toward the Manor proper. "Alfred!" Tim called as he entered the study from the secret clock entrance. "Alfred! Where are you?"  
  
The dignified old man walked into the large room. "Master Timothy, whatever is all the shouting about?"  
  
"Joker," Tim started as he tried to catch his breath. "Joker's ... dead."  
  
_______________________________________________________________________  
  
Listlessly, Dick sat by the gargoyle on top of Gotham Cathedral. At one time, it had been his favorite place in Gotham. At one time. His mind tried to comprehend what his father had told him in the ride from the old fun house. "It's not about revenge Dick, it's about redemption." He looked behind him to Batman who silently stood there. His presence was strangely comforting to a soul beyond comfort. How long had they existed there in silence? "Redemption?"  
  
Batman slipped the cowl back revealing the troubled face of Bruce Wayne. He moved over and sat beside his son. "What we found out -- what I wanted to tell you -- all the legends Tim and I found state that the Crow is back seeking redemption for his own soul and his killers. You're not suppose to kill though."  
  
Dick turned his head away, his anger boiling within him. "Tell that to my anger. It's still here, within me."  
  
Bruce sighed and placed his hand over Dick's. "I know. You're still here because, well, you haven't done what you were supposed to do."  
  
Standing he walked toward the center of the roof. "Now I never can! I killed him! I killed the Joker and I enjoyed every minute of it. How can I redeem someone who's dead? How can I redeem myself?"  
  
"We can work on your own -- "  
  
"My what? Redemption! What the hell did I have to redeem Bruce? Ever since I was eight years old did I went out night after night saving people, helping people. I didn't deserve this! Babs didn't deserve for that maniac to paralyze her, rape her, and murder her! What the hell -- "  
  
Bruce grabbed him by his shoulders, "I don't know," roared from his raw scratchy throat. "I don't understand this, Dick. But I know that murder is wrong, no matter how right or justified it feels. I know you know that too. I understand nothing in this situation is fair. But I will help you however I can. Together we will make this right."  
  
Dick threw his head back and looked up at the stars sparkling in the night sky. An anguished moan escaped his lips as a crow cawed in the night.  
  
_______________________________________________________________________  
  
The young attendant at Gotham General's morgue slid the rack where the Joker's dead body lay into its vault and closed the heavy metal door. He shuddered. When he was a child, his mother told him horror stories about the Joker. He was Gotham's very own Boogie Man. Now the Boogie Man was dead, but the night didn't seem any safer.  
  
He walked to his desk and sat down, pulling out his medical text. He placed his headphones on and cut up the volume. Working his way through med school as the morgue's night attendant wasn't the best job in the world, but it gave him a lot of time to study and the customers didn't talk back.  
  
Most of the time.  
  
A large white boa constrictor slithered across the floor and started wrapping itself around the attendant's leg. He swatted as he kept reading, then he felt the tightening. Removing the headphones, he looked down to see the albino creature swirling around him. He yelled as he tried in vain to stand, but the unearthly animal had started its death grip. As the attendant breathed his last breaths, a knocking sound came from the vault housing the Joker's body.  
  
The door flew off its hinges as thin pale fingers gripped the outer rim and pushed the slab out. He threw the sheet on the floor as he gleefully hopped down. Green circles mapped his eyes against his stark white skin. He looked into his refection in the stainless steel vault doors of the morgue and smiled evilly. The new look matched his hair. He liked it. He liked the new strength too.  
  
Why was he in the morgue? Oh yes, the other one had killed him. The other one like him. But not like him, different. Oh well, it didn't matter now, he thought as he stooped down and picked up the large snake from around the lifeless man's body. The other one had freed him from death. Now he could entertain Gotham City for eternity.  
  
  
  
TO BE CONTINUED ... 


	7. Chapter 7

Redemption Part 7:  
  
  
  
Roy Harper paced through the cave, his footsteps echoing throughout the silent sanctuary. Tim watched Roy walk in circles. They hadn't been able to contact Batman since word of the Joker's death had hit the police bands. Fear of what that could mean ate at their souls. Yet, neither could speak their shared concern. Neither wanted to voice the possibility.  
  
Finally, the Batmobile roared into the cave, coming to rest in its familiar spot. Roy and Tim watched as Batman and Dick emerged from the vehicle. Roy stormed over, "What happened? Do you know about the Joker?  
  
Dick walked past his friend without a word. Walked past Tim without making eye contact. He headed up the stairs toward the Manor.  
  
Bruce simply removed his cowl and started for the uniform vault. Roy stepped in front of him, stopping him from going any further. "Step aside," he warned.  
  
Roy stood his ground.  
  
"I said step aside," Bruce said in a low growl as he glared at the young archer standing before him.  
  
Once, Roy would have felt his knees quake under Batman's glare, but not now. A lot had happened in the past year since Dick's death. They had grown ... closer. Yes, that was a way to put it. They had shared a profound sadness. Now, he could face THAT stare and stand his ground. "What the hell happened out there? Joker's dead. You and Dick know anything about that?"  
  
"Yes," he replied flatly and moved around Roy.  
  
"Well?" Roy yelled behind him as Tim moved closer to him. There were times he could throttle Bruce, and this was one of those times.  
  
"What?"  
  
Tim spoke up, a slight stutter in his speech, as he begged Batman's back for an answer. "Please, wh-what happened? Did Dick --"  
  
"Yes," Batman said as he closed the door to the uniform vault.  
  
Tim and Roy stood there unmoving for a moment. Then Roy walked over to Tim, placing his hands on the young boy's shoulders. A tear fell from Tim Drake's eye as he remembered what he had learned. Dick had killed. What would happen now -- to Dick, to Bruce, to all of them? Tim turned to Roy as a sob escaped his lips.  
  
Roy pulled the teen into a comforting hug. "We're going to get through this Timmy. Together. Like we always do. We'll figure something out, the big guy'll figure something out. He always does."  
  
Bruce tightly gripped his cape in his hands as he listened to Roy and Tim's voices echoing throughout the cave. They expected him to fix this problem. Dick expected him to fix this problem. He just didn't know how, didn't know if it COULD be fixed. He leaned his head against the closed door. God, his son's very soul was at stake and he couldn't do anything to help him.  
  
_______________________________________________________________________  
  
"Someone killed Mistah J! We're not gonna let them get away with it," Harley screeched as she paced back and forth in front of some of Joker's most loyal henchmen. "We're gonna find the guy who killed my Puddin'."  
  
"A lovely sentiment Harl, but not necessary. I plan on killing the guy myself. After I kill a few thousand others first," Joker said as walked out from the shadows and into the light, the albino boa constrictor wrapped around his body.  
  
"Puddin'?" Harley asked as she watched him. There was something ... strange ... about him. Strange even FOR him. The green streaks above and below his eyes, the unearthly glow to his eyes.  
  
Placing the large snake on the floor, he asked, "Happy to see me Harl?" Joker asked as he twirled around, arms outstretched as if he were modeling a new outfit of clothes. "I'm back. The new and improved Joker -- just as funny but more lethal than ever. BWAHAHAHA."  
  
His wicked laughter sent cold chills down the spine of everyone in the room. Tentatively, Harley approached him. "Is it really you, Mistah J.?"  
  
"Of course it's me. Who else would I be?"  
  
"Well, we all heard that you were killed."  
  
"Reports of my demise have been greatly exaggerated!" Joker responded wildly as he grabbed her by the waist and started dancing around the center of the room. "Or not," he added as he stopped suddenly. "Let's just say I tried death and it wasn't any fun. No one around to appreciate my jokes, so I came back. There were just too many people to kill," he said as he walked away from her toward the desk which sat against the wall. Opening the drawer, he pulled out a gun. Turning he calmly shot Harley in the chest.  
  
Joker's henchmen gasped as she fell backwards -- dead before she hit the floor.  
  
"Now we wait," Joker said as he tossed the gun and took a seat. His wicked laughter resounded throughout the hideout.  
  
_______________________________________________________________________  
  
Jim Gordon walked to his front door to answer the ringing bell. Opening the door he saw Commissioner Aiken and Harvey Bullock standing on his stoop. "A little late to be coming over for coffee," Jim said as he held the door open for the two men to enter. Jim walked back to his green recliner and sat down. He picked up the remote and turned off the TV. "I've heard about the Joker. It's all over the news."  
  
Aiken sat down on the sofa and looked at the man who had been his inspiration, "There's more than just the Joker's death. The man -- Deacon Cast -- who was working with Joker -- he's made some statements."  
  
"Now Commish," Bullock said addressing Gordon, "Cast is nutty as fruitcake, but he keeps drawing and mumbling. From what we've pieced together, he and Joker were the ones who --" Bullock turned from facing his long time friend, "murdered Barbara." His eyes drifted on a photograph of Jim, Sarah and Barbara. Bullock remembered when that photo sat on Jim Gordon's desk in police headquarters.  
  
Jim's eyes stared blankly at the men before him. Joker had killed his daughter. Joker had raped his daughter. All of this AFTER Joker had crippled his daughter and murdered his wife. Yet, now the Joker was dead. Should he feel anger or glee, relief or rage? Whatever he should have felt he didn't. Jim Gordon was numb inside. "How?" he asked hoarsely.  
  
"Someone snapped his neck," Aiken replied as he leaned against the sofa back. "Can't say any of us are too choked up over it. At the same time --"  
  
"Who murdered him?" Jim laced his fingers together as he thought. "Give him a medal from me if you find him, which I hope you don't."  
  
"They didn't do enough to him, if ya ask me," Bullock added. "They should'a mutilated his body. Torn him limb from limb and dumped him in the garbage where he belongs."  
  
The shrill ring of Commissioner Aiken's cell phone sounded in the room. Aiken pulled the phone from his overcoat pocket. "What?" Bullock and Gordon watched Aiken's face as it turned ashen. "It's ... gone. ... Murdered? ... I see. We'll be right there." He sighed as he looked back up. "Jim, be glad you're retired. Someone killed the night attendant at the morgue and stole Joker's body."  
  
"What freak would do that?" Bullock asked as he rose from his chair.  
  
"In this town, take your pick," Jim replied.  
  
_______________________________________________________________________  
  
Dick leaned against the cool marble of the tombstone as he looked up into the black sky and watched the clouds float past the moon. He would cry if there were any tears left in him. His hand clutched at the damp green grass. He had seen her -- Barbara -- standing in the glowing light. Her arms were outstretched to him, waiting for him. Yet, he couldn't go to her. He was stopped from going to her, repelled by the sin he had committed. Dick's mind floated back to when he was a child ... when he had passed all the tests and training Bruce had given him, the very last thing before he was granted the Robin suit was taking the oath. The oath to do good, to fight for justice and to never EVER kill.  
  
Dick had betrayed that oath tonight and in doing so, he betrayed himself, his father and his love.  
  
Redemption.  
  
Redemption?  
  
It was too late for him now. He committed the cardinal sin. There was no turning back, no changing what he had done. He had taken a life, he couldn't give it back. And he didn't want too. He didn't want the Joker to be alive. Dick was happy Joker was dead. No, not happy, he could never be happy again. He was ... satisfied. Yet, that satisfaction was cold comfort to his lost soul. A soul that couldn't die. Couldn't rest.  
  
The ebony crow flew past him and perched on the large tombstone cawing into the night.  
  
"Go away. There's nothing for you to show me anymore," Dick said as he pulled his legs up to his chest and laid his head upon his knees with a low moan.  
  
"Are you sad Unca Dick?" the small voice asked.  
  
Dick turned to see the small five year old standing in the grass in her long nightgown and bunny slippers. "Lian, what are you doing here?"  
  
"Daddy brunged me for the night cause the sitter couldn't stay. He does that since we moved to the 'Haven."  
  
"It's cold out here, you should go in and go to bed," Dick replied dryly.  
  
Undeterred, Lian walked closer to Dick and pushed his legs down so she could sit in his lap. "What's wrong?"  
  
"Lian, I don't want to talk, ok. Please just go in."  
  
"Daddy says you shouldn't hold stuff in when you're sad."  
  
Dick looked into her wide brown eyes. Innocent eyes. His eyes had been innocent once, long, long ago. Never again. Why couldn't he just melt into the ground and return to his grave? Nothingness was better than the torment he was in.  
  
"Unca Dick, why're you sitting out here?"  
  
"I ... I need to be ... here. Close to ... her. I'll never be close to her again."  
  
"Why?" Lian asked as she looked up at him. She had never seen her Uncle Dick so sad before.  
  
"Because I," killed, "did something bad." Committed murder. "Very bad. So bad I can't be forgiven for it."  
  
"Yes you can," she said with childlike authority.  
  
Dick shook his head, "No. I can't."  
  
"All you haf to do is say you're sorry," she continued as the crow cawed into the night.  
  
_______________________________________________________________________  
  
Joker looked at the clock on the wall and then back down at Harley's lifeless body. Her limbs were hard and stiff with rigor. He steepled his fingers as he stood and walked around her body. His henchmen remained against the wall hoping they were a safe distance away. Slowly, Joker crouched down and poked at the dead body.  
  
"Harley! Harrrllleeeeeeyyyyy! Hmm," he mused as he looked up at his henchmen. Obviously, Harley wasn't coming back as he had. "Oh well," Joker said with a shrug, "you win some you lose some. Let's see who's next."  
  
He looked up and saw the fear in the eyes of his aides. He reveled in their fear. It was the most addictive drug of all. He would kill them all right now if he didn't think he'd have use for them. Oh the price he paid for having high aspirations.  
  
Joker stood and walked toward his men. "There's murder and mayhem to be had in Gotham. I'm back with a vengeance, and the city's going to celebrate ... whether they want to or not."  
  
Turning around, he spied his snake coiling around the body. "Yes my pet, you're right," he said as he seemed to communicate with the snake. Reaching down he grabbed Harley's body, slinging it over his shoulder, and headed off. "Time to feed the babies."  
  
His henchmen watched as he marched off toward the hyenas' room. Joker opened the door and tossed Harley's body in. "There you go, Mommy's here for dinner." He shut the door and headed back toward the front room. "Whoever said the meek would inherit the earth hadn't met me," Joker said as his sadistic laughter filled the hideout. _______________________________________________________________________  
  
Morning sun beamed brightly into Bruce Wayne's bedroom window. However, the cheerful morning light could not lift Bruce's spirits as he stood looking out on the back grounds. All of his attention was focused on Dick who still sat at the grave. He had remained there all night, refusing even Alfred's entreaties to come inside.  
  
It tore at his soul to see his son in such pain. As hard as losing Dick had been, seeing Dick in this kind of agony was much worse. He felt helpless. He had no idea how to help his boy, if there was any help to be had. Killing, even in a normal situation would be hard for them to deal with. But there was NOTHING normal about their situation.  
  
"Master Bruce," Alfred began. Silently, Bruce turned from the window. "You may wish to turn on the news, Sir. The Joker's body has been stolen." Alfred closed the door to leave his eldest charge to digest that bit of news as he saw fit. Everyone's nerves were on edge. Alfred knew that sometimes, solitude was beneficial, and he felt this was one of those times.  
  
Bruce walked to his bed and reached for the television remote on the bedside table. His hand wavered and instead, picked up the photograph of the smiling young boy with raven's black hair and the bluest eyes he had ever seen. Dick's eyes were even bluer than his own. Dick was so happy in that photograph. Dick had always been a happy child, a good child. He grew into a good man. Dick never deserved the tragedies that life imposed upon him. Yet, Dick had always been able to persevere and to carry on -- stronger and better than ever.  
  
Not this time, Bruce feared. Of course, Dick had always been alive too. Death and resurrection would change one's perspective on life. He sat the photograph back on the night stand and returned to his vigil at the window. He didn't care about the Joker's body. It could be thrown to the wolves for all he cared. He cared about Dick. Dick was hurting and more ... what HAD this murder done to the state of Dick's soul? What would happen to him now?  
  
Bruce bit his bottom lip as his stomach knotted at the thoughts swirling in his mind. He wasn't a man who enjoyed being in the dark, but in this situation he had absolutely no clue. His heart ached as he saw the despondent young man tracing Barbara's name on the tombstone. He closed his eyes. "God, why did you do this to him? Why?"  
  
"The Lord does work in mysterious ways Bruce."  
  
Bruce whirled around, his reddened eyes glaring at the intruder. "What the hell are you doing here Hal?"  
  
To be continued ... 


	8. Chapter 8

Thanks go out to Patty, Sandra and Tammy for beta reading. I hope you all enjoy this part. Char :-)  
  
REDEMPTION Part 8:  
  
Bruce stood looking at the corporeal form of Hal Jordan -- the former and now deceased Green Lantern who was currently the Spectre, the agent of God's judgment on earth known. Bruce's eyes narrowed as he started at the spirit before him. "I asked you a question?"  
  
"I came to help."  
  
Bruce turned back and looked out the window again at his son who still sat by the tombstone. His dead son. His world was based on the rational, centered in reality. Yet, none of this was real or rational. This was all so hard for him to comprehend. "Help? How?" he queried. Bruce Wayne wasn't a man who liked to ask for help, but his son's soul seemed at stake and he would do whatever it took to save him.  
  
Hal sighed wearily. "I had hoped that Dick's morality would have kept the Crow from killing. I didn't think he would actually kill. I underestimated Dick's anger and his willingness to use the Crow's anger when I brought him --"  
  
Bruce whirled around. "When you brought him back!? You made him that .... thing!"  
  
"He's a crow Bruce. You've been doing some research on crows, what have you learned?" Hal asked like a school teacher waiting for a child to recite his homework assignment.  
  
Annoyed, Bruce replied. "The crow is a spirit of vengeance, like a wraith. They return to earth seeking to redeem the souls of their murderers. They're not supposed to kill. How's that?"  
  
"Very good. What else do you know about spirits of vengeance?" Hal pressed on.  
  
Perturbed, Bruce thought a moment before answering. He looked up into the face of the man who, at one time, he might have called a friend and at another time, did call an enemy. "You. Spirit of vengeance is your ... gig."  
  
Hal nodded. "Very good. You're correct. Crow's are manifestations of the Spectre's force. I can manifest in thousands of places in thousands of shapes ... using various vessels to seek to bring God's redemption where needed. That is what I did here ... with your son."  
  
Bruce's blue eyes were blazed with anger. "You used my son ... his body and soul ... jeopardized his soul ... for your purposes! To try to redeem that psychotic madman who should have been killed long ago. Who I should have killed long ago if I hadn't been impotent and could have ... You should have given him an instruction book Hal!" Bruce yelled across the room.  
  
Hal Jordan simply stood, seemingly unaffected by the words his former friend hurled at him. "Thou shalt not kill."  
  
Bruce stormed across the room toward the large bed. "Don't give me that crap! You know what I mean!"  
  
"Bruce," Hal said, warning in his tone.  
  
"Oh don't even try," Bruce replied undaunted. Hal or the Spectre or whoever or whatever he was now might like to intimidate people, but Hal didn't intimidate him. "You want to help ... you should ... this mess is your fault. How do I fix this situation? How do I help my son?"  
  
"He has to help himself. His action in killing the Joker has upset the balance between good and evil. The scales have tilted and they must be made right again. He has to make them right again ... one way or another."  
  
Sitting on the edge of the king size bed, Bruce sighed. Suddenly, he felt very tired. "He can't bring the Joker back from the dead. He would if he could. I would if I could. If that would 'balance the scales' ... What else can we do?"  
  
"Joker has already returned," Hal replied matter of factly. "That is what causes the problem. When Crows kill the object of their redemption, they have failed in their primary mission -- to redeem that lost soul. Not only is that soul lost forever, but it returns as an agent of the Snake."  
  
Bruce looked up into Hal's eyes. "Returns! Joker's returned ... you mean ... like Dick?"  
  
"Yes and no. Similar to Dick. Only Joker's soul is lost, unredeemable forever ... so his sins are now borne on another soul."  
  
Clasping the side of the bed, Bruce bent down, his head close to his knees. He felt as if he was going to be sick. This was all more than he ever wanted to know. His breathing was rapid. Finally, with a hoarse voice, he dared to ask his fear. "Dick's ... Dick's soul?"  
  
"Yes," Hal answered sadly. "He will bear all responsibility for all acts Joker commits until he is stopped. Joker must be stopped before ... well ... Dick's soul can only bear so much before he can't be redeemed himself. Help him stop Joker ... before it's too late."  
  
Swallowing the bile that was rising in his throat, Bruce tried to find his voice. This couldn't be happening ... his son couldn't be facing ... NO! He wouldn't let this happen. He wouldn't. Looking up he started to speak, only to find he was alone in his room. His hand braced the footboard, he pulled himself to his feet and slowly walked over to his window. He looked down at Dick. No! He wouldn't let this happen. "I failed to protect you once. Never again. Neither the powers of heaven or hell will stop me."  
  
_______________________________________________________________________  
  
"Ok, that's it," Roy said as he pushed himself up from the kitchen table drawing the attention of Tim, Lian and Alfred. "He's punished himself enough, and he's coming in now." Roy started for the door leading to the back yard.  
  
Tim stood hesitantly, "Are you sure you should?"  
  
Roy turned around as his hand clasped the door. "I'm not sure of anything anymore, but I know he's coming in." He opened the door and stomped out into the grass wet with dew. He saw his despondent friend sitting in the grass, his hand resting against the tombstone. He didn't begin to understand what his friend was going through, but he wasn't going to let him go through it alone.  
  
Dick noticed the shadow that fell across him. Silently, he looked up into his friend's green eyes. Barbara had similar green eyes, he thought. He turned his attention back to the marble tombstone as his hand ran across her name. He had seen her last night. Then he lost her again ... forever.  
  
"Dude, this isn't good. You need to come in," Roy started as he squatted down to his friend. "Come on."  
  
"No."  
  
"Dude, you're going in ... one way or another. Make it easy on me and come in willingly."  
  
Dick looked back at Roy. "What's the point. Nothing matters anymore. Nothing -- "  
  
"Don't give me that! There's Bruce, Tim and Alfred and a whole world of people who care about your ass, including Lian and me. Now get off the grass and come in the house."  
  
"Roy," Dick growled.  
  
"Dick," Roy mocked as he reached down, grabbed Dick's arm and pulled him up. "Come on in."  
  
He looked at his friend as he was pulled up from the ground. As despondent as Dick was, he tried to give Roy a weak smile. "Okay."  
  
Roy threw his arm around Dick's shoulder as they headed into the house. "It'll all work out all right. We'll see to it. Titans Together you know."  
  
Dick stopped and faced his friend. "I haven't had a chance to say thank you to you yet. Well, I have, but I haven't."  
  
Roy shrugged, "For what? I haven't done anything."  
  
Dick crossed his arms in front of his chest and rolled his eyes. "Sure you haven't. You just moved to Bludhaven to take over my "business" and moved in here checking on my family. Exactly what I asked you to do that one time. I know how you've always felt about Bruce, so I know that wasn't the easiest thing for you to do."  
  
Clamping his hand on his friend's shoulder, Roy squeezed just a little. "You were right. He's not as scary once you really get to know him. All bark and no bite ... well ... ok he has a LOT of bite, but you get used to it."  
  
They started back towards the house and entered through the kitchen. Alfred was putting away the breakfast dishes. Tim and Lian were no where to be found. "They are in the study fighting over the remote control," Alfred said without turning around. Dick smiled at how some things stayed the same, even when he felt like the world was collapsing. Maybe Roy was right, maybe things would work out in the end.  
  
Tim and Lian, were indeed, locked in battle over the TV. Roy started to go in to stop the melee when a news broadcast caught Dick's eye. "Stop!" he said as he walked closer to the TV turning up the volume as Summer Gleason continued.  
  
" -- body has been stolen from the Gotham City Morgue. The reason behind this bizarre crime has yet to be determined. Gotham City Police aren't making any statements as to who would have stolen Joker's body. The twenty- four year old morgue attendant that was murdered during this bizarre robbery has been identified as -- "  
  
Dick turned off the television as he turned toward the room's other occupants, his face a mixture of confusion and concern. "Who would steal Joker's body?"  
  
"No one," Bruce replied as he walked into the room. "Joker's not dead ... exactly."  
  
"What'dya mean exactly?" Roy asked.  
  
"He's back ... like me," Dick stated. "How did you -- " Dick stopped as the room started spinning and contracting around him. The large black crow flew from its perch on the top of the tombstone, cawing in the morning sun. Dick saw the world in red and black through the eyes of the crow. Gotham City lay far below, as the crow flew towards its destination. The Gotham waterfront came into view -- the red docks contrasting against the black water. The crow cawed as Amusement Mile came into view. Crowds of people walked the boardwalk, rode the Ferris wheel and miniature roller coasters. "Joker," Dick hissed as he headed toward the door.  
  
Roy looked from Dick to Bruce to Dick's back as he left the room. "Where's he going?"  
  
"After the Joker," Bruce growled. "Suit up and we'll follow."  
  
"Shouldn't HE suit up?" Tim asked pointing toward the door.  
  
Bruce recalled the Crow he had seen at work twice. "I think he already is."  
  
_______________________________________________________________________  
  
Joker walked through the crowded boardwalk. People seemed to think he was a clown at the amusement park. He walked through the crowd, waving at the children who smiled at him. Ah, the innocence of youth, he thought as he continued on. How fun it would be to watch them go boom. Before him was a sideshow barker. Joker smiled as he started up the steps to join the man.  
  
"Step right up folks and -- " He looked at the Joker as he joined him on the stage. "Who are you? You're not part of the act?" he whispered at the purple clad man.  
  
Joker took the microphone from the man's hands. "Not part of the act! Surely you jest! I AM the act!" He pushed the man behind him as he faced the crowd. "Rube! Laaadddiiiieeess and Gentleman, children of all ages, the show has just begun. Joker's here," he said with relish and a slight pause. Then his grin grew wider, if that was possible. "What did the puzzle say to the clown?" He held his right hand up and pressed a detonator causing multiple explosions to start throughout Amusement Mile. "I go all to pieces over you."  
  
The crowd grew wild with fear and panic as they started moving in all directions, trying to find the safe way to run.  
  
Joker started laughing wildly as he watched the flames shooting into the air. "Sometimes I just kill myself," he said as he slapped his knee. Then he stopped and looked thoughtful. "Oh wait, that's right, I didn't kill me, he did." Joker started musing as frenzied crowd raced around him. He was caught up in his own musings and didn't see the motorcycle that roared down the center of the boardwalk, seemingly oblivious to the panicked crowd. Joker closed his eyes as a grotesque smile formed on his face. "Well, well, the gang's all here."  
  
The black clad figure jumped from the moving motorcycle and somersaulted onto the stage, his long black jacket flapping in the wind behind him. "Joker," he hissed. Dick was somewhat taken aback when Joker turned to face him, his face a grotesque mirror of Dick's own. Where black tear stains marked Dick's ashen face, similar green marks were on Joker's.  
  
"The little birdy's come to play."  
  
"Night's darkness called your foul fetid name; but spewed a soul so black and bestowed breath back, To it I'll return you with cleansing flame; hellfire is your fate and cursed agony awaits."  
  
Joker raised an eyebrow as he looked at the Crow before him. "Oh give it a rest," he said smiling evilly as he struck out with lightning speed. Using the microphone stand, he sliced at the Crow who ducked low, swinging out his leg and knocking the Joker to the ground. Joker didn't stay down long, however, catching himself on the palms of his hands and flipping himself upright.  
  
The black crow circled in the sky as Dick and Joker faced off against each other, his ebony eyes caught sight of the albino boa constrictor slithering under the bandstand. The bird cawed as he flew at the snake, pecking his attack as the snake hissed at him.  
  
"Time to die Joker," the Crow spit out.  
  
"I've been dead once, it's very liberating," Joker laughed wildly as the explosions around them started taking on a life of their own. The fires started by Joker's explosives were now hitting power lines and gas mains causing more violent explosions to rock the area. The Ferris Wheel at one end of Amusement Mile toppled over, the wheel breaking loose from the frame. It started rolling down the boardwalk. Joker reveled in the screams of pain and terror surrounding him.  
  
The Batwing roared high overhead, over taking the fiery wheel of death. Two bat grapnels shot out from the plane through the spokes of the giant wheel embedding there anchors into the building to the left and the pier to the right of the boardwalk. The wheel lurched to a stop. The Batplane changed directions quickly, flying over the flames to drop extinguishing fluid on the blaze. Batman watched his radar screen as he tried to track his operatives on the ground. Dick was the only one he couldn't track anymore. Not since the motorcycle's tracking devise went off-line. That was right before the explosion. Batman could only pray that Dick was all right.  
  
"Batman to Robin. Report," his gruff voice ordered.  
  
Robin's voice came through the crackling connection of the comm link. "Arsenal and I are trying to get as many people out of the area as possible. GCPD and EMT's have a triage center set up a block away. Azreael and Huntress are working the other end of The Mile."  
  
"Batgirl?"  
  
Robin took a breath before answering, "Looking for Nightwing."  
  
"He's NOT Nightwing! Not anymore," Batman growled.  
  
"Well, whoever he is, he's one of ours, and she's looking him," Robin replied as he flipped to avoid falling debris.  
  
Batman's jaw flinched. He didn't want to convey his worry to Robin. "I know who he is," came out curtly. The fact that he was worried about Dick was something he wanted to hide ... from himself as much as Robin. What was happening between Dick and Joker? How had Joker been changed? How would his changes affect a confrontation with Dick? Joker was dangerous enough when he was alive ... but now -- "Batman out."  
  
Far below the Batwing, Batgirl crept along the boardwalk seeking her prey. She spied them near the pier, engaged in unearthly combat. She stared at them for a moment ... disbelieving what she saw. Batman had told her Nightwing was alive and was here at Amusement Mile. Had it been anyone but Batman who had told her Nightwing was back from the dead, she would not have believed them. Batman, however, she trusted implicitly. Believing and seeing however where two separate things. Her eyes still did not comprehend how Dick was back from the dead. She had attended his funeral. Had watched as his and Barbara's bodies were lowered into the open earth. Had seen Batman's total devastation at his death.  
  
Now, Dick was back. It was amazing to her. He didn't look like the man she remembered. He wasn't dressed as Nightwing, and he didn't seem to be Dick. He was ... different. As she watched the Joker, she noticed he was different as well, although his maniacal laugh remained the same. She watched their fight intently. Neither man fought the way they had before. There were similarities in Dick's style to his old fighting stance, but his abilities were far superior to what they had been before. Batgirl was intrigued by his moves. She had never seen moves like their's before. She would like to learn these moves.  
  
The Crow and the Joker parried at each other. Kick to kick, punch to punch, they were equally matched one to the other. Beneath her mask, Batgirl smiled. Time to change the odds in this fight. Quietly she crept forward toward the battle, oblivious to the snake and bird that faced off at the corner of the bandstand. Silently, she leapt toward the Joker's back.  
  
Joker blocked Dick's kick with his arm, slinging his foe backwards. A swirling green vortex appeared before his eyes as his snake showed him a new foe's approach from behind him. His smile was wicked as he calmly stepped to the side and grabbed Batgirl's outstretched leg in mid kick. With a strong yank, he pulled her against his back shoulder blade. "Hello there my pretty. Nice of you to drop in. Or is it drop out?"  
  
Batgirl was too shocked by the move he had and the speed he used to struggle out of his superhuman grasp. With an ease not borne of this world, Joker lifted Batgirl into the air and tossed her into the fiery inferno consuming the pier.  
  
"Nooooo!" Dick yelled as he somersaulted toward the flames after Batgirl. The crow flying off behind him.  
  
Joker smiled as he watched his adversary disappear behind the wall of flames. He then turned toward the sound of the Batwing roaring overhead. He watched as the Batwing dropped fire extinguisher on some of the flames he had caused. Batman putting out fires. Now where was the fun of that? "Bwahahaha," he laughed evilly as he picked up the metal pole that had held the microphone. He twirled it like a baton, and then took aim at the plane high above him. With an unearthly aim, he threw the pole like a spear at the Batwing. The metal object hit the plane's engine with unbelievable force rupturing the hull and piercing the engine. The plane sputtered and choked in its death knell as it started to spin out of control toward the pier.  
  
Joker continued to laugh as he calmly picked up his snake and started to walk away. As he hummed, the large albino snake coiled around him as he left the fiery area. The snake's head rested on his shoulder watching the events behind him. Through their connection, Joker saw the Batwing crash into the fiery pier. He laughed as the pier collapsed into Gotham Harbor. Three down eight million to go. "But Baabyeee when we kiss," Joker sang as he pulled the snake's face around to his kissing the slimy creature on its head. "dadadada ... Fire! Bwahaha Gotham's gonna heat up tonight. Bwahahaha."  
  
To be continued ... 


	9. Chapter 9

Being home sick yesterday ended up being productive for me. Thanks to Patty for a quick beta last night. I hope you all enjoy. Char :-)  
  
REDEMPTION: PART 9:  
  
Robin pulled the two children from underneath the rubble as he heard the loud explosion behind him. He turned toward the harbor and felt his mouth drop at the sight of the Batplane consumed by a ball of fire. Yellow, orange and red flames shot high into the air. Robin pushed the two children toward their mother and ran toward the pier.  
  
His breathing was heavy as he ran up the dock. "NOOOOOOOOO!"  
  
Arsenal ran toward the site of the crash from the opposite end of Amusement Mile. His green eyes narrowed as he saw Robin readying to jump into the inferno that was Gotham Harbor. He grabbed Robin by the arm, preventing the boy from leaping out into the flames.  
  
"I gotta go! I gotta try to save them! I've lost enough already ... I can't lose ..."  
  
Arsenal pulled Robin to him. "I know," he said as he looked at the fireball in the harbor. "I know you have."  
  
"Roy ... I gotta ... I can't ...."  
  
A large grin formed on Arsenal's face. "You haven't. Look," he said as he turned Robin toward the dock.  
  
Dick Grayson seemed to emerge from the fire. His long black coat flapping behind him like a cape. Batman under one arm and Batgirl under the other. He carried them with inhuman strength.  
  
As he neared the two hero's, Robin ran to him. "Are they?"  
  
"They'll be fine," he said stoically as Arsenal grabbed Batgirl from his arms. "Call Leslie and tell her we're coming home with wounded." Dick lifted Batman into both arms once Arsenal had Batgirl and they headed toward the car, Robin took the lead.  
  
"What happened Robbie?" Arsenal asked as he looked at the unconscious girl in his arms. Her costume was ripped, her cowl barely hanging on her face.  
  
"Joker. Joker's what happened. Again," Dick Grayson answered as a black crow flew past his head cawing.  
  
  
  
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Leslie finished bandaging Cassandra's broken ribs. "You'll have to rest for a few days."  
  
"Have work to do," the girl answered petulantly.  
  
"Yes, all good little bats have hard heads," Leslie sighed as she patted the girls hand and moved to the next bed in the medical bay of the Cave. She stopped just short of the bed as her eyes fell once again upon the young man she had never thought she would see again. She still couldn't believe that it was Dick standing there holding Bruce's bandaged hand. Taking a deep breath, she continued over to her other patient. "And how is the hardest Bat head of all doing?"  
  
"Funny," Bruce said gruffly as he looked up at her.  
  
Leslie ran her hand through his thick black hair, stroking it off his forehead. "You were a lucky young man."  
  
"Not so young," he said as he tried to sit up. His face was a mirror of pain as he tried. Unsuccessful, he stubbornly reclined, his throbbing head welcomed the pillow's embrace.  
  
"That's a matter of opinion," Leslie said as she checked his wounds. "You realize you have a concussion."  
  
"Umhm. Dick and I have to find the Joker."  
  
Leslie stopped as she looked across the bed into the deep blue eyes of the man she thought they had buried a year ago. "I still can't believe --"  
  
"Neither can I," Dick added. The he looked down at Bruce. "I have to stop the Joker. You have to rest and heal."  
  
"No," Bruce barked. "We do this together."  
  
"This is my fault, my responsibility," Dick countered. "I'm not letting anyone else get hurt because of me. NOT anymore."  
  
Tim leaned in the doorjamb, his arms crossed, as he watched the scene play out before him. He turned and walked out into the cave. He didn't want to hear Dick and Bruce's same old argument. Even after death, some things never changed. He stopped and watched Roy Harper restocking his quiver. Tim walked over and propped his elbows on the counter. Then he sighed and slid down resting his head on his outstretched arms.  
  
"They're all okay, Tim," Roy said as he continued to fill the quiver.  
  
"This time," Tim countered.  
  
Roy patted him on the back, "It will be okay."  
  
"I'm not exactly sure I know what okay is anymore," Tim sighed.  
  
"Neither do I," Roy added as he laid his quiver down on the table. "None of this has been easy for any of us Tim, least of all Dick. As hard as it was for us to lose him, think of what he lost when he was ripped from heaven and sent back here where its not fair or good but harsh and cold. Despite all that, he's fighting to do what's right just like we will and I know that we'll win in the end."  
  
Tim turned to look at him, never lifting his head from his arms. "How do you know that?"  
  
"Because we're the good guys, it works that way."  
  
"Indeed," Alfred said announcing his presence. He watched as both young men gave him their full attention. "Master Roy, you have a telephone call upstairs ... from New Mexico."  
  
Roy smiled, "Thanks Al." He patted Tim on the back and ran up the stairs. As he moved through the clock entrance in the study he let out a deep breath. He moved to the mahogany desk and picked up the flashing line. "This is Roy ... Thank you for calling me back. There's a situation here ... yes that's what I told the Chief. ... Well, what I need to know is ... how to kill a Crow?"  
  
  
  
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Joker strutted into the office in the abandoned toy factory. He had piled discarded dolls, bears and soldiers to one side of the office opposite a large blackboard. Joker, clad in painter's smock and hat moved to the board and started drawing with colored chalk. A few minutes later he scrunched his face as he observed his work. Stepping back from the board, he shook his head. Joker stuck out his thumb toward the board, squinted his eyes and pursed his lips, Then he started back on the circular drawing. He labored meticulously on his sketch. As he drew, he mimicked the sound of explosions and flames under his breath. He drew until it was exactly what he wanted. His already wide grin spread even further across his face like a snake slithering across the ground.  
  
"You see children," he started as he turned toward the inanimate toys. "All artists are never truly appreciated until after their deaths. I just decided to stick around for the accolades. Bwahahahaha."  
  
Silently, the henchmen Joker had scared into working for him watched from the corner. "He ain't right," the short fat one said to the taller one.  
  
"He never wuz, he's worse now."  
  
"I heard that!" Joker yelled as he turned to face them, teddy bear in hand. "And it's soooooo true."  
  
"So what're we gonna do boss?" the taller of the henchmen asked.  
  
"Do? DO! Why that's what we're going to do," he responded, tossing the teddy bear in the air and pointing to the squiggly lines of white pink and orange chalk. "Bwahahaha." he moved to the center table and picked up the large boa constrictor. "You like it don't you?" Holding the snake to his ear his maniacal laughter echoed throughout the abandoned factory. "I knew you would.  
  
Joker stood proudly looking at his handiwork. He then turned to look at the enormous snake in his arms. "You do? ... That's a very good idea." Joker walked back to the board and picked up the white chalk. Swiftly, he drew an upside down "W" at the bottom of the pinks and oranges. "Yes, that will be the perfect addition." Joker looked at the snake and back at the drawing. "It's not an M! It's a bird!" Joker turned rapidly and shot one of his henchmen. "You're right. He didn't appreciate it."  
  
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Dick walked out of the medical bay leaving Leslie to tend to her patients. He saw Tim sitting at the computer and moved over leaning against the back of the large leather chair. "What'cha doing?"  
  
Tim looked up and smiled. "Trying to see if I can find anything more out about Joker. I'm using that same site that I found the information out about ... you."  
  
"Good idea." Straightening, Dick moved toward the uniform vault.  
  
Tim, swiveling around in the chair, watched him. "You going to suit up?" he asked hopefully.  
  
"No."  
  
"Oh," Tim sighed.  
  
"I am borrowing some equipment." Dick added as he took some batarangs and some compression grenades and placed them in his coat pocket. He took an earpiece so he could establish a comm link if necessary. Turning to leave, his attention was caught by the two trophy cases housing his and Jason's uniforms. He walked over and looked at the case surrounding his Nightwing suit. How long ago all that was. It had meant so much to him at one time and now ... now nothing mattered except protecting his family and taking down the Joker.  
  
His eye wavered over to Jason's case. His hand pressed against the cold glass encasement. Sighing, Dick leaned his head over on the case. "She's with you now bro. Take care of her for me until I get there."  
  
Tim drew his hand to his mouth as he watched Dick. This wasn't right or fair. Dick didn't deserve any of this. Tim bit his lip as he thought about how Dick must feel. Remembered what Roy had said and then felt the conflicting emotions in his heart, because despite everything he was happy to have Dick back. Dragging his hand under his nose, he stood up as he saw Dick return to the main body of the cave. "What are you going to do?"  
  
"Stop Joker."  
  
"Let me suit up and I'll go with --"  
  
"NO! I'm going alone. I told Bruce and now I'm telling you. No one else I love is getting hurt because of my mistake. I made him, I'll destroy him. ALONE." Dick marched up the metal stairs beside the central computer and headed toward one of the motorcycles. Straddling the machine, he revved it to life and shot out of the cave like a bat out of hell. No. Dick corrected not a bat out of hell nor a crow out of hell. He left like the bullet that echoed in his mind. He shot out of the cave like that echoing bullet that sped from the Joker's gun and ended Barbara's life.  
  
The crow flew out of the cave behind him and high into the Gotham night. Dick didn't know where he was going, but he knew his ultimate goal. Twisting the handles of his motorcycle, he sped up as he headed toward the city. The crow was slightly in front of him. As they approached the city, his vision suddenly blurred. Everything was red or black ... he was seeing through the eyes of the crow. The bird wanted him to follow him, to go somewhere. Gunning the motorcycle, Dick allowed the crow to lead him.  
  
  
  
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"Any word?"  
  
Commissioner Aiken looked up at his office door to see the head of the office's former occupant peeping in. "Come in Jim."  
  
"Have you found out anything about Joker?"  
  
"Not since he was seen at Amusement Mile earlier today. If that was Joker, which I find hard to believe. joker was taken to the morgue in a bodybag. People just don't get up and walk away from that."  
  
Jim sat in the red leather chair across the desk from his successor. "So you think it's a copycat?"  
  
"Makes sense. Another nut job has a thing about Joker, hears he's been killed, so he steals the body to make it seem that Joker was still alive."  
  
Jim nodded. It was the logical answer, but his gut told him different. Told him that monster was still running loose on these streets. To terrorize and destroy, just like Joker had done to his family ... his Sarah and his Barbara. "Harley Quinn. Has anyone found her?"  
  
Aiken stood from the desk and moved to the window. "We've been keeping this from the press, but I know I can trust you Jim. Harley's body was found partial eaten by her hyenas two days ago."  
  
Jim closed his eyes. That was a very Joker like thing to do. "The press said ... Batman's plane went down. Have you ... have you --"  
  
"We haven't heard from him Jim. The only hope I can offer is we haven't recovered any bodies and you know how resilient he is."  
  
Gordon nodded again, while his gut told him that things were about to get worse for Gotham. Silently he prayed that Batman ... or someone ... would protect them from the fiend in the night.  
  
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Tim stretched. His muscles were knotted from sitting before the computer. He walked toward the med bay as he continued stretching his arms around his head. As he entered the medical bay he froze. Bruce's bed was empty. "What the -- "  
  
"I'm here."  
  
Tim whirled behind him to see Bruce, cowl in hand, walking towards him. "How'd you get around me out there? Never mind," he said as he held his hand up. "Where do you think you're going?"  
  
"After Joker."  
  
"The hell you are," Tim yelled. "You've got a concussion, broken ribs, a fractured wrist, you're not going anywhere."  
  
Bruce turned and started to put the cowl on.  
  
"Hell no you don't! Aren't you listening to me! I am not having you do this. At least ... not alone."  
  
"No," Bruce said turning back to face the boy before him. The boy that was rapidly growing into a man. His jaw flexed as he looked at Tim. "You stay here. Joker's ... more unpredictable than ever, more dangerous. I won't risk your -- "  
  
"Geezus you sound just like Dick! Well, listen up! You are not leaving this cave without me. I let Dick, not that I could stop him, but I'm not letting you."  
  
"Like you could stop me?" he asked, his mouth twitching upwards ever so slightly.  
  
"In your present condition, I think I might. I'll get Roy and -- "  
  
"Master Roy is not here."  
  
Both Bruce and Tim turned toward the sound of Alfred's voice. Tim was the one who spoke. "Gone. Where'd Roy go? What is up with everyone here? Has everyone watched too many Lone Ranger episodes?"  
  
"Master Roy left I would say thirty minutes ago. He wasn't very forthcoming with his plans, however it is notable that he was dressed all in black."  
  
Tim stalked around in a circle. "First Dick runs off all crowy, then Roy going all ninja black and tight mouthed leaving. Now you," Tim spun back toward Bruce pointing at him. "You're not leaving me behind."  
  
Bruce's jaw flexed again. Then, he put the cowl on and said, "Coming?"  
  
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Dick walked back into Barbara's apartment. Why had the crow led him here? Obviously, Joker wasn't here and wasn't that what he needed to be doing? Finding Joker, stopping him from killing more people. Why did he need to be here? Here where it all happened ... where they both suffered so much pain. He looked at the broken glass. No one had been allowed to clean. It was frozen in time memorial to the dead. He walked through the too quiet rooms. As he moved into the kitchen he cocked his head.  
  
Their glasses ... their wine glasses from dinner that night still sat on the counter where he had moved them after dinner. The leftover wine in them had long ago evaporated, only a dry residue remained caked to the bottom of the glasses. A shakey hand reached out and touched the glass.  
  
It was as if an electric shock went through his body. Laughter. He could hear her laughter as they ate dinner. The clinking of their wine glasses in toast to Babs' successful hack into MI-5's databases to see if they actually had an agent assigned to the number '007'. He could smell her perfume mixed with the scent of her bath lotions and shampoo. It was her scent, and the thought of it made his heart cry out for her.  
  
Violently, he flung the wine glass across the room, the threw it's mate behind it. The sound of their crashing into the wall resounded in his ear. Dick ran to the window where he had fell to his death and stepped out on the ledge. "WHY????" he screamed up at the heavens. "WHY?" He paused as he stared at the distant street below. What would happen if he threw himself off again? Would he feel it? Would he die again? Or would he simply get up and walk away?  
  
"I can't answer that Dick."  
  
He froze. He was sure he wasn't breathing, that his heart wasn't beating. Slowly, he turned around. "Barbara?"  
  
TO BE CONTINUED . . . 


	10. Chapter 10

REDEMPTION: PART 10: 

A black clad figure dropped from the ceiling onto the floor of the Gotham City Museum of History. He was careful to avoid the security sensors. Observing the security guards earlier, he knew he had fifteen minutes before they would make their way back to this area of the museum. Stealthily, he walked past the Native American artifacts -- rugs, beads, pottery -- none were what he was looking for. Finally, he stood before the case holding the one object he had come for. Standing before the glass case holding the ornate ebony bladed knife, slowly the figure turned and looked around him at the museum. 

"I never thought I'd be glad that the Dinne's heritage was pillaged," Roy Harper sighed as he pulled the ski mask from his face. "This once I'll be glad," he said continuing his thought. 

Roy removed the knife from his side and used the blade to unscrew the case's side. Easing the case open, he looked at the knife inside. "So you can kill a crow? Shaman says you're older than the Dinne, that you belonged to the ancients of Chapa Canyon," he mused before placing his hand on the hilt of the blade. As soon as he removed the blade from the raised velvet lined showcase, the museum erupted in blaring alarms. "SHIT! I knew I should've called Catwoman in for this. Weight sensors." Shaking his head and cursing at his mistake, Roy sheathed the knife in his boot. Pulling his mask on, he continued muttering, "A rank amateur could've done better." 

He heard the guards running towards him as he ran in the direction of the window. On the run, he pulled a mini grenade launcher. The grenade rocketed to the window. A small explosion demolished the window and it casing, filling the air with swirling dust. Roy's feet crunched the pebble size debris and glittering glass strewn across the floor as he neared his renovation. Pulling a grapnel hook from his jacket, he shot off a line he had borrowed from the cave. The line arced across the street and imbedded in the building opposite the museum. Roy waved at the security guards and jumped from the fifth story window. He felt his arm jerk as he flew across the sky on the line. Roy was grateful he had mastered this little trick in the last year. The guards' bullets whizzed by his left arm and he heard the approaching G.C.P.D. sirens. 

Roy used his feet to stop himself from slamming into the building, He pulled himself up the line and then over the ledge of the roof. Cursing, he sprinted across the roof. "Shit, Shit, Shit! I do not have time to get arrested here." 

"Going somewhere?" 

Roy stopped dead in his tracks. He turned to see Azrael standing behind him. He really did not want to fight Jean-Paul, but he really didn't want to explain right now either. There was no time. He had to find Dick. Roy's eyes narrowed beneath the ski mask as he watched Jean-Paul approaching. Reaching in his belt, he pulled some unmarked throwing stars and a couple of gas pellets. The throwing stars whirled across the dark room and cut into a humming high tension power line. The line snapped and sparks showered down across the roof. As Roy intended Azrael dodged to his right to avoid the dancing electrical sparks and behind a large sign. The next set of starts cut across the supports of the sign. It wavered, groaned and then collapsed. Azrael dodged again and landed with a thud under one of the supports. When he looked up again, Roy waved and tossed the gas pellets leaving Azrael coughing and gasping. 

"I'll buy ya a beer later Frenchie," Roy muttered as he jumped from the top of the building on to the ancient fire escape. 

___________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

"Barbara?" Dick questioned the vision before him. Barbara Gordon appeared to be standing there. She was beautiful. Her long red hair hung around her shoulders. Her green eyes glittered. A long floral dress seemed to sway around her in a slight ethereal breeze. She smiled at him. She seemed to be glowing ... no ... she was glowing. Dick noticed the slight golden aura surrounding her body as she moved closer to him. 

"Dick," she said taking his hand in hers and pulling him from the broken window back into the apartment. "You don't need to do that. Jumping wouldn't help and it would only hurt you. " 

One hand gripped her's and the other hand cupped her face. "You ... you're real. I can ... feel you." Dick smiled, "You're real." 

Barbara smiled at him again. "I'm always real to you. I'm always part of you." 

"I'm so sorry," Dick cried as he clutched her to him. "If I hadn't ... hadn't killed Joker ... we'd be together now." 

"Shh," she soothed running her hand through his thick black hair. "You'll come back to me. I know you will. I have faith. We were meant to be together and we will be Dick. All you have to do is have faith. But before we can be together, you have some things to do." 

Dick looked deep into her green eyes. He felt so at home in her arms. Even with the world falling down around him, everything felt right in her arms. "I have to stop Joker," he said resolved. "I just ... I don't know how." 

"You will, when you need to." 

Dick gazed at her sweet smile. "When I need ... when will that be?" Barbara didn't answer him but instead continued silently smiling at him. Dick looked down unsure of himself. "Babs I ... I don't know." Sighing he looked up to a dark and empty room. "Babs? BABS! Don't leave me! PLEASE don't leave me again!" 

___________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

"Negative. Do not waste time or energy looking for the ninja burglar. I need you looking for the Joker," Batman gruffly said as the Batmobile roared down the Gotham highway. "The police can handle a burglar. I want Joker found and I want him found now." 

"Oui mon amie." Jean-Paul replied over the car's communication system. 

Robin turned his eyes from the road toward Batman. "Ninja burglar?" 

Batman growled. "Keep your eyes on the road!" 

Robin grinned and shot around a corner on nearly two wheels. "Oops." He turned an insincere angelic smile toward Batman before turning back to the road. 

Batman growled and shook his head. "It's not important. Not now. Joker's all that's important. I have to stop him." 

"How do you plan to do that exactly? You're not supposed to be outta bed with your injuries. I know, I know that never stopped you before. Heck this time, you couldn't even drive. Any ideas how we're going to stop Joker once we find him?" Robin asked as he depressed the gas pedal making the car go even faster. "He isn't exactly the same old Joker we were used to." 

"We stop him however we have to," Batman replied. He turned watching the buildings flash past them as they moved deeper into the city. "I will not allow that madman to jeopardize my son's soul. Joker takes no more from my family. No more." 

A squelch came over the radio as police dispatch sounded a call to all cars. "Escape at Arkham Asylum." 

Robin turned toward Batman. "Do you want me to -- " 

"No, I want to see if we can find some of Joker's old gang. They usually can be found -- " 

" -- escapee Deacon Cast was last seen --" 

Batman gritted his teeth. "Turn the car around. NOW." 

___________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Jim Gordon walked through the crowd headed toward his stadium seat. "Philip, how did I let you talk me into coming here?" 

Gotham's current police commissioner smiled at its former commissioner. "Because you needed this and so did I. When is the last time you relaxed Jim?" 

"How can I relax with that madman on the loose?" he asked as he made his way past the popcorn vendors. The smell of the salty buttery goodness floated through the air. 

"That's not your job anymore. It's mine," Aiken almost shouted over the din of the crowds. "Didn't you say Barbara gave you these tickets?" 

Jim moved into his seat looking out at the fifty-yard line. Sighing, he nodded. "My last birthday present from her. Lifetime season tickets." 

"I think she gave them to you because she wanted you to enjoy them, don't you think?" 

Jim Gordon nodded. His daughter would want him to enjoy himself. She wouldn't want him wasting away grieving for her. yet, it would be easier to live his life with Joker dead. 

___________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

CAW 

Dick Grayson turned his melancholy eyes toward the black bird that flew through the broken window into the Clocktower apartment. "What?" The bird walked on the windowsill puffed its chest feathers, fluffed its wings and appeared twice its size. The bird cocked its head and turned his coal black eyes on Dick. It stared steadily at the man with whom he now shared a soul. "What do you want me to do? I don't know where he is! I don't know what to do!" 

CAW CAW 

Moving over, Dick sat beside the window and held out his hand. The black bird moved over and dropped a piece of chalk into his hand. "What's this?" Dick asked as he looked at the smooth round stick of chalk. Closing his fingers around the object, his body jerked. His head flew backwards as a tuft of black hair fell across his forehead. His eyes closed and his breathing slowed. 

Through a black and red colored fog, Dick saw images. Joker. Joker at a chalk board. Plans. Crowds. The sounds of the crowd assaulted his ears as if he was there. He could smell the hot dogs, candy, soft drinks and popcorn. His eyes rested on the green field. 

Dick gasped. Oxygen shot through his lungs like fire as his breathing returned to normal. His eyes flew open. Dropping the chalk on the floor, he looked at the crow. "I've got to stop him." 

CAW CAW CAW 

___________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Jim and Aiken watched the band members take the stage for the half-time show. It was amazing how quickly the stage had been rolled to the center of the football field. 

"Ohmygod," Gordon mumbled as he dropped his hotdog. He stood as he watched a black leather clad man take center stage. There was no mistaking the Joker, not with a green pompadour. 

Joker grabbed the microphone. "Ladies and gentlemen! How 'bout them Knights? Thank you for being part of the Joker's Comeback Special." Joker's maniacal laughter rang out over the speaker system. Shouting and screaming, the crowd was on their feet fleeing for the exits in confusion, anger and fear. Joker reveled in the sounds of mayhem. "Don't try to leave folks, the funs just begun. All exits have been sealed. Now Deacon," he said turning toward the insane laughter of a man wearing a grotesque smile on his face, "give me a beat." 

Aiken pulled his gun as he radioed for all available units. He watched Jim Gordon pull his own service revolver and started through the pandemonium moving against the crowd and toward the Joker. Aiken followed, his eyes never leaving Gordon. 

"It's a one for the money," Joker began singing into the microphone, wiggling his hips as if he were a rock star performing to a devoted crowd. "it's a two for the show, it's a three to get readyyyyyyyyyyy --" Joker grinned evilly, "Blow Knights blow." His fingers pressed a button on the microphone as explosions began to boom and crackle around him. "Bwahahahahaha," laughed the Joker as hell was loosed on earth. 

___________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

THUD 

"Did they say anything?" Batman asked the sobbing man he had pinned to the wall in Arkham Asylum. His face was inches over the pathetic man. "I want to know where Cast went." 

"Not ... not scared of you," the man cried. 

"Oh really," Batman taunted. "You should be." Robin looked from Batman to the corridor ensuring the guards weren't coming. They were too busy answering questions as to how Deacon Cast escaped. Robin looked back when he heard the sound of breaking bones. 

The man cried out and his knees buckled. Had Batman not pinned him to the wall with his strong hands, the patient would have crumpled to the ground when Batman broke his hand. "I dunno what you wanna know. Deacon just left. Was like he was in a trance or sumthin'. He finally stopped yammering about that damned bird," the man said as he pointed with his remaining good hand at the cell wall. 

Both Batman and Robin turned to notice the many, many etchings and paintings of a crow. 

The comm signal came to life. "Dic--Nightwing to Batman, do you hear me?" 

Batman released the man and turned without watching him fall to the floor. His gloved hand went to his ear. "Ni-Nightwing, this is Batman." 

Robin's eyes were wide as he listened in. He had smiled as he heard Dick use his code name once again. 

"Joker's at Knight's stadium. I need everyone there. he's going to blow the whole thing," Dick Grayson said riding his motorcycle toward the home of the Gotham Knights. 

___________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

"I'm going to kill that sonovabitch," Gordon said as he and Aiken made their way closer to the center stage. "This time the bastard stays dead." 

"No one stays dead." Gordon wasn't fast enough in his turn and Deacon Cast slammed into him. Another of Joker's men grabbed Commissioner Aiken. "Mr. Joker's gonna be happy to see you," Deacon continued as he slugged Jim Gordon. 

Jim fell to the ground and reached out for the gun which had fallen from his hands. One of Joker's henchmen kicked the gun away as Deacon and Gordon rolled on the ground. Aiken punched one of the henchmen, only to be grabbed from the back by two others. Finally, subduing the two men, Joker's henchmen dragged them toward center stage. Carefully, they stepped over the large slithering snake that almost seemed to surround the front of the stage. 

Joker grinned before he turned around. His eyes glowed green as his vision rested on Jim Gordon and Philip Aiken. "Well, well, well, if it's not the police commissioner of Gotham City. Both of them. They will make perfect greeters for my next guests." 

The snake slithered happily onto the stage. 

___________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Dick's motorcycle roared into Knights' Stadium Parking area and up the white cement steps leading to the box office. He drove the cycle through the glass door and into the stadium. The bike zoomed through the maddening crowds trying to escape the time bomb that was the stadium. He was oblivious to the screams of the people as he past -- unsure if they screamed because of Joker or because of him. He knew he wore the mask of the crow. This wasn't a mask he put on nightly like his Nightwing mask of old. This was a mask that came from inside him when the rage and the pain welled up calling for revenge. 

Yet, Dick Grayson tempered the crow ever so slightly. He knew it was more than just revenge. The business of the Crow was about far more. It was about redemption. About saving one's soul from evil and making up for past sins. Everyone sinned, even the best of men. That was what made the difference in humans and gods. Dick Grayson knew full well he sinned, knew each and every act has consequences. Bruce had taught him that from the time he was eight years old. He had momentarily forgotten when he allowed the crow in him to kill Joker. 

Every act has consequences. Even acts committed after the grave. Killing Joker had placed the state of his own soul in peril, but as he rode past the terrorized throngs of people, he didn't care about that. All he cared about was stopping Joker from taking another life. It wasn't that he had to protect the innocents ... no one was innocent ... he had to protect lives regardless of the stains they wore. That was another lesson Bruce had taught him. It was time he started paying attention. 

Dick rode the cycle down the steps, past the rows and rows of seats onto the field. He opened his comm link. "Batman, when you arrive, everyone's primary goal is to rescue the people. Leave Joker to me." 

"Dick I want to -- " 

"Leave. Joker. To. Me." Dick slowed the bike to a stop as he stared at the football field before him. There on each side of the massive field, Jim Gordon and Philip Aiken were chained to the uprights on each end of the T-shaped goals. Blood oozed from the cuts on their faces and chests, fire burned around the bottom of the metal pole. "I'll need backup on the field. Joker has the commissioner -- both of them." 

Batman looked at Robin as they leapt from the Batmobile. "We're on it. D--Nightwing -- be careful." Azrael and Batgirl joined the current Dynamic Duo at the gates of Gotham Knights Stadium. "Robin and I will rescue Jim and Commissioner Aiken. You two get the crowds out. If you see any explosives contact me." 

"Any word on Arsenal?" Robin asked. "We could use every pair of hands we have." Azrael and Batgirl simply shook their heads as they all headed out on their respective missions. 

Dick's eyes narrowed as he watched the Joker strut across the stage. The Joker's insane cackle echoed wildly across the stage. "The wages of sin," the Crow began. 

"Are borne by the wicked," Joker replied without turning around. He didn't need to. He saw his adversary through the eyes of his totem snake. "Bwahahaha, they pay well too. Come to play little bird?" 

"I've come to finish the job!" Dick shouted as he barreled down the field toward the Joker. 

Joker simply smiled at his enemy and pulled a bazooka up from the ground. Aiming it at the motorcycle, he fires. Dick leapt from the bike as fire blossomed around the exploding motorcycle. He pulled his legs up to his chest and then kicked out in the air somersaulting not once, not twice but four times as only he could. Hitting the ground in a fighting stance, the Crow glared up through his black tear stained face. 

"Time to pay the piper." 

"Spoil sport," Joker said as he pressed the detonator in his hand. A series of explosions started rocking the stadium. He threw the detonator at Dick, who simply knocked it away. "Why didn't you stay dead? You really were one of my better works of art -- flesh, blood, bone, gray brain matter all spread out and squished together on sidewalk pavement. You should've seen it, it was marvelous." 

"Not as satisfactory as hearing your neck snap like a twig, I'm sure," Dick replied as he advanced. 

Joker pulled a hand grenade from his pocket and threw it toward Dick. Flipping into the air, Dick dodged the explosive and landed behind Joker. His hand shot out hard and fast in a flat handed movement that sent the Joker reeling. Joker used the palms of his hands to break his fall, sprung back upwards and turned to face the Crow. He kicked out, but Dick dodged. Dick struck out with a quick punch that Joker blocked. Like expert fencers, they parried and thrust across the stage one trying to best the other in what seemed a virtual standstill. 

Batman carried Jim Gordon down from the goal post. He turned toward the sounds of gunshots. He froze as he watched Joker's henchmen ignoring everything that was going on around them to shoot at Dick's crow that flew above the stage. "Why shoot at -- " 

Joker shot acid toward Dick as they fought. Dick sprung backwards, backflipping away. As he turned, Joker pulled a gun and started firing into Dick's chest. Dick felt the searing heat when each bullet tore into his skin. A grotesque smile formed on Dick's deathly pale face as he dropped to his knees, black blood dripping from the wounds. Joker danced around Dick's fallen form, while his men continued to shoot at the crow cawing above them. Joker raised the gun and pointed it at Dick's head. 

Dick's eyes flew open as air forced its way into his too still lungs. His blue eyes looked up into the barrel of Joker's gun. 

"Once I blow your head apart I think it's safe to say that you'll be gone for good. Not here, not there, Not anywhere. The big goodbye. BwahahahaaGAAHHHH." 

An arrow pierced through Joker's hand. He whirled to see Arsenal standing on the sidelines. Arsenal smiled as he watched Dick rise from the platform, his long black coat flapping behind him. Pulling the ebony bladed knife from its sheath, he tossed it to Dick. "Catch!" 

The knife flew through the air toward Dick. Joker's boney arm extended upwards to intercept, but he dropped to his knees in pain. "NOOOOOOOOOO!" he cried out in agony as he saw the batarangs that perforated his boa constrictor's body. "You killed my snake!" His voice dripped with venom as his glowing green eyes focused on Batman. 

"Not yet," Dick's voice rang out behind him. "You have to cut the head off a snake." 

Joker whirled but was too late. The Crow that was Dick Grayson had lashed out with the ancient blade. The lightening quick cut was clean and sharp and Joker's evil laugh was forever silenced as his head tumbled away from his body. 

"_Free of memory and of hope, the dead man is not a dead man: he is death_," the Crow mused as his black bird cawed and landed on his shoulders. 

Batman and Arsenal started approaching Dick from opposite sides of the platform, when a brilliant light surrounded Dick. The light blazed and they had to shield their eyes. Dick turned inside the light to see Barbara standing there smiling at him. He embraced her. He felt whole, he felt at home. Then he felt the light fade. Her image lost its corporealness. 

"Barbara?" Dick softly said. 

Suddenly, to his side stood The Spectre, God's agent of redemption on earth. "You have done well Richard Grayson. It's a good start." 

"Start?" Dick asked perplexed. 

"It takes more than vanquishing the Joker to balance the evil he did. You still have souls to account for before the tally is leveled and the accounts paid," Spectre said as he morphed into the visage of Hal Jordon. "But it's a very good start." Barbara wrapped her ethereal arms around him. "We both thought you could use a guide on your journey," he added with a smile before he disappeared. 

Barbara's sweet breath caressed his ear like a soft spring breeze. "I'm always with you Dick. Forever." 

Dick nodded at her words and added his own to them. "_For still together shall we go and not fare forth alone to front eternity_." He felt her invisible hand gently stroke his. 

He wasn't alone. Never was he alone on earth nor in heaven. Barbara was with him, a part of him. She was the other half of his soul whether he could see her or not. He would always hear her voice and hold her in his heart until at last redemption was finally fulfilled and Dick Grayson again went home. 

He turned back to Arsenal and Batman. Robin approached hesitantly. "Is ... Dick, is it over?" Robin placed his green gloved hand on Dick's arm and Dick smiled back. Not as the crow, but as a brother, son and friend. 

"No ... it is only the start." 

THE END -- 

AUTHOR'S NOTES: 

The Crow seems to wax poetically at times so I added a few lines from real poems about death. Poem quotes are in italics in the body of the fic. Here are the original poems in their entirety that are quoted from. 

Remorse For Any Death   
_by Jorge Luis Borges_

Free of memory and of hope,   
limitless, abstract, almost future,   
the dead man is not a dead man: he is death.   
Like the God of the mystics,   
of Whom anything that could be said must be denied,   
the dead one, alien everywhere,   
is but the ruin and absence of the world.   
We rob him of everything,   
we leave him not so much as a color or syllable:   
here, the courtyard which his eyes no longer see,   
there, the sidewalk where his hope lay in wait.   
Even what we are thinking,   
he could be thinking;   
  
we have divvied up like thieves   
the booty of nights and days. 

Love and Death   
by Sarah Teasdale 

Shall we, too, rise forgetful from our sleep,   
And shall my soul that lies within your hand   
Remember nothing, as the blowing sand   
Forgets the palm where long blue shadows creep   
When winds along the darkened desert sweep? 

Or would it still remember, tho' it spanned   
A thousand heavens, while the planets fanned   
The vacant ether with their voices deep?   
Soul of my soul, no word shall be forgot,   
Nor yet alone, beloved, shall we see 

The desolation of extinguished suns,   
Nor fear the void wherethro' our planet runs,   
For still together shall we go and not   
Fare forth alone to front eternity. 


End file.
